


Dominique

by LitheFider



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Creature Fic, Drama, Falling In Love, Gen, Gills, Hurts So Good, M/M, Plot, TF2 OC, Tentacles, Tentaspy, Torture, Water Monster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LitheFider/pseuds/LitheFider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A BLU Spy is altered into a tentacled, gilled water monster known as a 'tentaspy'.  This fic revolves around the story of Dominique as gets used to his new body and existence hiding in the canals of 'The Well' from the very team that altered and then tried to dispose of him.  However, eventually a certain new RED Engineer catches his eye, and the despairing tentaspy finds something to live for as a new drama unfolds that he never expected to find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post with tweaks (and added plot points later on) for better flow and characterization. So while this fic will be what you remember it if you read it years ago on TF2chan, it will be an improved experience. And to any newcomers, welcome! Know despite the usual track record with tentacle monsters, this fic is a plot/character driven story, It does have sexual stuff, but it is not 'tentacle porn' or even a 'porn fic' really. 
> 
> Also - This fic includes named TF2 OC's, as it goes under the assumption of a slightly more realistic world of a rotating cast of individual mercs RED/BLU hires, so that each person is a real individual but still falls under the generally known physical appearance, nationality, and manner of speaking for their class as we know it. Personality, personal history, and a few unique physical traits give them OC distinction. Dominique is a Blu Spy, but he is not THE Blu Spy.

  
They told horror stories about Respawn.

 

It was supposed to be a new technology to save lives, but just months after its installation the men stationed at The Well felt like guinea pigs with a Russian roulette gun pointed at their temples. 

Some people got sick from Respawn, the shakes, night terrors, seizures.  At the same time, some remained unaffected; fresh as daisies when the machine spit them out.  It seemed quite ‘choosy’. 

The worst, of course, was that sometimes it did the very opposite of what it was designed to do – it could kill you. 

People had been fried by Respawn if they went through too many times in a week, or if the power levels dipped too low, or your Respawn was after hours, any number of factors...  
  


The Respawn machine was indeed a fickle mistress.  
  


That was why the mercenaries actually gave two shits about calling for a medic. The medigun could heal you up in a jiffy, giving you one less pull of the trigger with Respawn Russian roulette. 

But it’s hard to call for a medic when you are tossed into the water.

“AGGnnn!” The BLU team’s only Spy was thrown into the canal, tossed by a blast from a soldier’s rocket launcher.  He’d have survived if he could have made it to the tunnels, but the same RED solider followed after him to finish the job.

“Bon voyage _Crouton_!” The American chuckled as the rocket fired.

The Spy didn’t have time to dodge, even if it all seemed to happen in slow motion.  He was always so careful, so sneaky.  In his 5 months of service the worst he’d ever got was spy check burns, which thankfully Respawn or the mediguns fixed.  However, he’d never been _blown_ _apart_ , much less in the water, and it was so close to ceasefire...

His torso was hit clear in the middle, guts and blood spilling into the water. In a foolish reflex, he had put his hands down to try and block the attack. Those were blown off nicely too. Since his head was mostly unharmed, he had a few moments to watch the world go dark as he bled out, and to see his mangled body. His finely tailored suit was like confetti among intestine streamers as the Spy drifted in the waterway.

 

The ceasefire bell rang just as the BLU Spy sank to the bottom, dead at last.

 

The Respawn machines automatically lowered their power levels after ceasefire, sensing no more bodies in the pick up system. The Spy was left waterlogged for a good hour, forgotten.  His team did not wonder where he was at dinner; the Spy was frequently out of sight, off on his own. That was what Spies did.  So it was not thought of again.

 

...

 

The Frenchman’s balaclava was partially blown off, making his short, dark, and slightly curly hair a tangle for young fish to pick through. 

There were lots of aquatic creatures in the canals, for the irrigation-like waterways at Well eventually led out to rivers and aquifers, hence the base’s namesake.  Any small river fish, crawdad, and frog that could squeeze through the grates made it in, and would feed on the bits of blood and flesh that Respawn did not pick up.  The system often left behind ‘extraneous’ appendages that it could just reconstruct - blown off legs, fingers, toes; all good scavenging for the freshwater wildlife.  The fish would grow and become too big to make it back through the grates, making the canals like little ecosystems of their own.

The fish scattered like a fluff of disturbed feathers as the Spy’s body zapped out of existence, finally recovered by Respawn.

  
...

 

* _KZzzzzattchhHH_!*

The BLU team, who was sitting down to dinner, startled as the lights flickered and then went out entirely, along with all the power in the base.

“Wot the bloody ‘ell...?” The marksman snorted to the darkness.

There was a silence before the Scout burst out laughing.

“Shuddap!” The Soldier barked, aggravated and hungry, not liking being unable to see his dinner.

“Did we blow a fuse or somethin’?” The BLU Engineer scrunched up his nose. Soon the rest of the team was poking him to go fix it, because that was his job right?  The Engineer grumbled it was BLU industries job to make sure their base equipment was working, the lazy bastards. 

He went over to the breaker box, and indeed found the Respawn circuit tripped. It had shorted out the rest of the base. He grunted in annoyance, but was then pleased as he could easily fix the issue and be a ‘hero’ to the rest of the waiting team.  A quick flick over of the breaker switches, and the team gave an amused cheer from the kitchen. Anything different was welcomed to the monotony of the work week, they had been stationed at Well a long time with no transfer.

The breaker box was in the locker room just outside Respawn. A wispy cloud of amino acid-laced smoke spewed out of the Respawn room as the missing member of their team finally materialized.  The BLU Engineer heard the sound and drew closer; confused as to why someone was re-spawning after ceasefire...

 

He gawked as the smoke cleared; unsure if what he was seeing was real.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BLU discovers the altered Spy, but it's not a positive reception.

When he awoke, the Spy found himself strapped down, and being prodded over by Team Fortress Industries BLU crewmembers.

 

The company got wind of the ‘malfunction’ right away, and stepped in to ‘correct’ the problem. 

They had no idea how Respawn could cause someone’s genetic make up to alter so completely, and so neatly.  They sent the Spy though multiple Respawns, with various settings and injected drugs, trying to make the system restore his original pattern. However, the system believed the combined animal and human DNA to BE his original signature. The scientists were a bit baffled.  How did the foreign DNA get in there to begin with?

Of course there was no original backup on hand, it would cost too much to store such high-memory data with redundancy.

“ _Je vous en prie_....please....no more...” The Spy was mumbling to deaf ears, not fully aware of his surroundings, or much of anything for that matter, because of the drugs in his system.  Why did he feel so _dry_? Why was breathing so hard?  He groaned at the lights overhead and the straps holding him down.  Everything felt heavy and jumbled.

 

“I don’t think we can fix it...”

“What about his contract...?”

“Cover it up, no one will know. He’s a Spy, his identity is already shadowed… like he doesn’t exist.  They’ll find a replacement in a few weeks.”

“What do we do with him then - ?”

 

“Dispose of him.”

 

They wiped his data from the system, and prepared a lethal injection dose, unaware that from the viewing deck wide eyes were looking down upon them. 

It was a middle aged German man, the doctor technician in charge of keeping the complex bio patterns for the BLU’s Respawn machines in check. 

BLU had been trying for years to auto regulate the patterns, but computers had not yet caught up to how to recognize minute nuances.  They still required a human element to periodically weed out the different from the ‘okay to be different’ pieces, otherwise the computer would Respawn the men as they were at their last original pattern scan – including hormone levels, stomach contents, hair growth, and most important – memory.  It was the reason Respawn was not perfect; it still had a human behind the wheel to keep those elements in check. 

He had taken over for the previous technician who had left, the very man who had developed the whole system.  No doubt he was relaxing on a beach somewhere, paid handsomely by BLU for his inventions.  While equally brilliant, the scientist in charge now felt his own genius was being completely ignored.  He was nothing more than a caretaker, a _baby sitter_.

 

So he decided to work on something of his own in secret.  Something that would make BLU single him out for as _his_ work- _his_ invention. 

 

That afternoon, he finally put his computations into the Respawn system.  Watching on the Administration cameras, he saw the Spy blown conveniently into the water before the ceasefire bell.  No one would miss him for an hour; his body would be hidden.  Surreptitiously, he got to work.  He needed the extra time to mix his altered patterns with that on file for the Spy... 

Now here he was, staring down at his work, it was successful in that the Spy was ALIVE, and not a pile of protein goo.  The real question was - was he the perfected hunting and infiltration machine he had intended to create?  Surely BLU should recognize his genius – bioengineered soldiers, fit for any terrain.  Sea, land, and air could be conquered, without the need of added technology!  This was only the start...

The German brashly came into the room, smug and blinded by his own ego. 

He revealed the altered Spy was his doing, and explained how he did it.  The half aware Spy just barely heard what he was saying, he could not process it at that moment.  The other workers stared at the Respawn tech, not sure whether to be shocked, scared, or impressed. 

However the reception he received was not as glorious as he had envisioned.

The administration head of BLU were not pleased.  They wanted people who answered to them, not sneaking about and doing things behind their backs. They could not have insubordination.  Half animal soldiers?  Such nonsense. 

The German was hauled away, cursing and screaming.  He was to be dealt with appropriately. 

As for his experiment?  He pleaded with BLU to let him study it, to not destroy it.  It was proof of his success!  Proof of his _genius_!  They could do so much with his discoveries!

 

As he was handcuffed and the door to the room closed, all he saw was that lethal injection syringe coming for the altered Spy.

...

 

They could dissect him – see exactly the damage the Respawn doctor had done.  The technician searched for a vein in the Spy’s hand to stick the needle…

The Spy did not even have time to think about why he couldn’t quite feel his legs, or what that mass of writhing was from his hips down, he was just aware enough of an ominous needing coming for him.  It would mean his death.  


Instinct kicked in.

Something in him screamed _‘ESCAPE’_.    


The doctors all screamed as once limp tentacles ferociously struck out, tearing through leather restraints and knocking over trays of metal tools.  Guards came in the room, momentarily shocked at the speed and strength long enough for one of the doctors to be violently ripped apart like a piñata.  Body parts flung in every direction like they were mere toys.  Bullets flew, purple blood splattered against the walls.  An inhuman snarl, a flash of claws and fangs was all they saw before the gunmen were bloodily dispatched.   

With a damaged cloaking device flickering a shimmer of his shape as it attempted to remain invisible, the injured Spy was tailed by BLU industries guards right into the war game compound.  A few of his old team caught sight of what was going on. They watched as their former Spy was riddled with bullets, and kicked into the sewers like garbage. 

While they wanted to understand what had happened, dirty looks and reminders of where their paycheck was coming from quickly stopped questions from the mercenaries. 

The altered Spy was dead, the German doctor imprisoned, it was done with.  


…  


However, they had miscalculated the altered Spy’s ability to heal. 

 

He survived.

 

Barely.

 

The BLU Medic wondered where some of his med kits disappeared off to, but it was not worth worrying about for too long.  The men often took medkits to treat minor wounds themselves.

The former BLU Spy tended to his injuries with a distant demeanor, like running on autopilot.  He sat on the bottom of the canals, and winced as he injected himself with the medkid syringe.  His wounds healing, his body dragged him to a dark, sheltered corner of the pipe-ways in the canal, where it felt safe.  

 

_\- Secure, safe, hidden.-_

 

Exhausted, stressed and confused…he was instantly asleep.

 

…

 

He had no idea how long it had been when he awoke, but he startled from a dreamless sleep, head nearly crashing into the curve of the large, concrete pipe above as he panicked at the water inhaling down his throat.  He was drowning! 

He stumbled backward and fell out of the pipe’s mouth to the canal floor. 

It was then he gasped at the sudden assault of suckers that were _everywhere_. The water was forgotten as he seemed to be getting oxygen somehow because there was a monster attacking him!  He tried to push it away to escape.  But he couldn’t!  It followed him, it…

He gawked down.  HIS body, that writhing mass was part of HIM. 

He tore off his tattered pinstripe suit and touched everywhere he could reach.  He had to touch and confirm it was real.  He thought he was still wearing his thin leather gloves, but he could not be because they surely wouldn’t have fit over the _webbing_ that now stretched between his fingers.  

Webbing?!  His hands were the same color as the dark aged leather.  His fingernails replaced with talon-like claws.  He starred at them, turning them over and over like maybe the third or fourth time they’d turn back to normal.  The color on them tapered off just before his elbows into a mass of spots.  Scraggly frills ran down the once damaged skin on his arms.

His mind jumped back to bigger matters, the writhing – he could feel it.  It…  


Tentacles.

Where his legs used to be, was a massive, curling pile of _tentacles_.

 

Flexible and muscular, like a kraken, with fleshy suckers from base to tip.  Their texture shifted from softly bumpy to smooth, and they could stretch their shape just as easily.  

They were doing their own thing, gripping to the sides of the pipe and seeking the edge, anchoring him and exploring the environment with probing suckers.  When he thought of them, or even just one, suddenly they flowed under his conscious control.  But as his mind wandered so did the appendages.  He distantly watched the tip of one curling over his hand; like he was watching someone else.

Were these things really...him?  Part of his body?

It had to be him, he felt his hand as clearly as touching any part of himself.  The tentacles were sensitive as fingers.  Looking to the ones around the pipe he could feel its roughness, even... _taste_ its grittiness?

He took in a deep breath of water and remembered he was _drowning_.

He held his throat and looked to the surface of the water.  It was dark out.  He swallowed, then breathed again.  The water, it wasn’t _hurting_ him.

He could _breathe_.

His gaze wandered down to his body.  His torso had what appeared to be gashes on it.   Hadn’t he used a medkit?  He didn’t hurt anymore.  He touched the slits and startled when he realized, they were not wounds.  They were _gills_.  Like on a fish.  They had to be, considering he was underwater and breathing comfortably.  He took a deep breath, the thick, coolness of the water not causing him to gag.  He felt and watched as the water pushed out the slits there in his flesh.  He spent a few moments letting that sink in, exploring that feeling.

_\- What’s that? -_

His head jerked over; a tentacle exploring out into open water had given him some interesting feedback, something the more primitive part of his brain liked.  He darted out, letting the impulse drive him.  Thinking would make him have to come to terms with his current situation. His brain could not handle any more stress right now, but his damaged body knew it needed to heal, and to do that it needed energy, it needed food.

A nicely-sized catfish was what he sensed.  It was quickly caught with a single tentacle, reeled in, and torn apart, fangs sinking into the sweet flesh.  It was a female too, full of eggs.  It was delicious to the starving altered Spy as he devoured every last bit.  Was it alright to eat the raw meat?  Rip and crunch through the bones with his teeth?  Running on auto pilot - he did not think about those things too deeply.

The Spy sank to the bottom, coiling up on himself like a sated snake. Each finger was licked clean for every morsel of prey.  He scraped his finger on his teeth, flinching. His teeth were certainly much sharper than they had been before.  The Spy lay there nursing the small wound, an inhuman _churrrrr_ escaping his throat.

What had become of him?

He tried to recall the past few days in any kind of coherent manner.

He recalled the RED solider killing him, and Respawn must have picked him up for he was here now…he remembered a BLU doctor who was not their team’s Medic looking him over, and multiple other people in BLU issue uniforms. He remembered feeling sick, hungry, achy, and dizzy. There was yelling, and talking.  He tried hard but it was all a blur.

He also recalled killing people.  A good number of people.  The memory was a haze of movement and blood.  It was part of his job description to kill people.  He liked the rush and the danger, stalking and outwitting his mark, the satisfaction of that fatal backstab, and defending himself if his cover was blown.  It was like a game sometimes, like hide and go seek; only you _die_.  He was always professional, cool, collected.  But self defense and assignment was one thing. 

The fact he felt he’d been out of control, couldn’t remember exactly what he did - that greatly disturbed him.  That he had killed without deliberation, like some wild animal.

The Spy thought himself an intelligent person, attractive, secretive, well traveled…and a skilled assassin.

But not a _monster_.

In recent months he was thinking about retiring.  And in Spy terms, that meant _disappearing_.  He had wants of steady companionship. There were plenty of flings and nights out, but he could never have a _lover_ as a spy; it’d be too dangerous for both of them.  He’d never had a want for one before, but he’d started to think about it while working at BLU.  It was something about Respawn, like it was reminding him of his mortality.  Here, death had no meaning, but out there, he was only growing older and his reflexes growing dimmer.  One day, one day soon, he’d not be so lucky to have a second chance. 

He would have had plenty of money saved after his tour with BLU. Find someone, settle down, and get an apartment in Paris. Enjoy cups of tea and coffee at corner café’s, eat expensive pastries, and make love on silk bed sheets.  Make it into older age…and have someone to share it with.

 

Why did this suddenly cross his mind?

 

Maybe because as he looked at himself…he realized he’d never have any of that now.

 

Dominique crawled back into that pipe, where it felt safe.  He’d never felt depressed or lost like this, not even when he was captured by the enemy and interrogated, not even when he spent days sitting alone on stake out.  He was overwhelmed and exhausted.  


His tentacles pulled his clothes back to him; they made a passable pillow as he curled up into a silently weeping ball. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually parts 2 + 3 of the original. They were a little too short to bother posting in individual chapters. Lots of changes in the part when Domi wakes up to discover his body changed. I wanted to convey a greater sense of confusion and disorientation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominique wakes up to a whole new reality. He must come to terms with his body, and explore the waterways of The Well base, if he is to survive and escape detection.

The Spy growled at his cloak and dagger watch and disguise kit.

Both had been damaged, most likely in the struggle with BLU when he escaped. He did not have the mechanical ability to fix them, despite trying.  The charge on the invisibility watch did not hold through movement, but it still worked while stationary. It could still be helpful.  His disguise kit glitched randomly; it was unreliable to the point of uselessness.  
  
Being a man of espionage who survived without such technology for over a decade, Dominique figured he’d get by.  He'd just need to be extra careful.

Getting by, however, consisted of becoming accustomed to his new existence.  
  


That first day, after he came, for the most part, to terms with what he’d become and how he almost died by his own team’s hands, his long espionage trained brain went right to the next course of action.  He had to remain hidden.  If his team knew he was alive they’d finish the job.  He had to get used to his current ‘home’ if he was to survive and/or escape.

To avoid detection, it would be best to keep deep underwater right where he was, and get to the outskirts of the base, if not beyond the fences, to hide and figure out what to do next.

While this was what he _should_ do, he realized staring at the pipe he’d slept in, the expanse of water out before him, and then down at himself, he had no idea _how_ to go about it. 

He’d have to get used to _himself_ …first.

Swimming.  Simple…simple swimming.

When he thought ‘swim’ that mess of tentacles would react in an appropriate manner, falling together in unison.  They did at least until he started thinking too hard and swam headfirst right into the ground. 

Some time, and grumbling, later, he discovered it was more controlled to skirt along the bottom.  He ‘walked’ more then swimming, pushing off strongly from any stable surface to propel him smoothly along.  When he paused, or came up on a wall, his parachute-like mantle flared to grasp, with suckers seeking purchase all on their own, grasping and wanting to explore everything they could reach. 

His tentacles poked into every nook and cranny beyond anything he was consciously making them do.  They took in the texture of the rough concrete walls, smooth rocks, and weapon debris littering the bottom.  He could feel it, all of it.  How they explored on their own made Domi somewhat distressed, because it made him feel like he was out of control of his body.  He didn’t like that idea of being out of control of _anything_ , especially his own actions.  How could he sneak about, where other people might be, with wandering limbs?  He couldn’t think of them all at _every_ moment.

Reasoning, the Spy compared himself to a child learning to walk.  Surely, this was no different?

Whatever was altered about him physically, felt like it infiltrated into more then just his appearance.  It was like there was another voice inside him, urges he’d never felt before.  This was most apparent when the blasts of explosives rang overhead during the day’s fighting, or when a fish swam past his tentacles and reminded him he was hungry.  His body dashed for cover or lashed out at the prey with far more finesse then he could exert with conscious control. 

This troubled him greatly, not only did it feel like his tentacles had a mind of their own, it was like his _brain_ had another mind of its own.  He decided the best way to not let this other voice take over was to continue to stay active and _intelligently_ exploring.

He ventured a little further and further in the waterways as it grew dark, those gills still working thankfully.  He’d not come up for air since awakening at the bottom of the canal.  He could feel the cold water passing through him, in his mouth and out his gills on his sides.  It was a very natural feeling motion.  In fact, it was quite pleasant, pleasurable even, if he paused to take it in.

Investigating the canals around the shipping base was fascinating; it was a side of the base he never got to see. The waterways were a lot more extensive than he imagined - with plenty of hollows to hide in.  He liked dark, enclosed and hidden spaces.  This was aided by the fact he could see quite easily in the darkness.

He knew his anatomy had changed, but the exact technicalities of how he was still breathing and functioning as a living creature were unknown to him.  He craned his neck around, trying to get a full look at his naked body.  All the damaged skin from when he was killed before that Respawn was changed.  Scraggly frills on his arms and back were under his control to perk or lower, like a fish. 

There was another matter Dominique had been avoiding, but his curiosity finally got the best of him.  He lifted up his ‘skirt’ of tentacles, wincing and feeling ill upon first seeing all those large suckers on his tentacles where they trailed up towards his torso like spokes of an umbrella.  Finding himself plenty flexible to curl around like looking between his legs, he felt over his lower anatomy. 

All he could figure out by sight was his ‘ass’ - or what was left of it.  A pucker at the crux of those suckers, not in the same position or form as it was before.  From what he recalled of animal anatomy, that is where a ‘beak’ would be on octopuses, as it was their mouth, like on starfish or sea urchins.  That was not where _he_ ate from though; it was still the end of his digestive track like it always was.  There was however one very important piece of _male anatomy_ missing.

The Spy slumped against the curve of the large pipe he was laying in.  Was he to suffer yet more indignity?  He was quite honest with himself in that like most other men in their middle-aged prime he had sexual needs, he couldn’t imagine living without it.  Now what could he do?  Would he ever feel the same again?  Could he still achieve any kind of sexual pleasure?

He writhed in frustration for some time before sleep, stewing over thoughts.  Exhaustion graciously overtook him.  
  
...  
  


The next few days he decided to ignore such a troubling realization and continue learning how to simply get around.  
  


As he was able, he kept away from the center of the base where the most projectiles flew past or the occasional mercenary fell in the water.  He made it to the fences one night, and found them rusted and weakened in places.  His tentacles were quite strong and with some positioning and concentration, he was able to make a large enough hole for him to get through comfortably.  

Under the cover of nightfall, he finally surfaced. So odd to feel the dryness of air against his face and draw it into him as he crawled up onto the bank of the river.  He coughed as the water drained from his lungs and out his gills.  His breaths were shaky.  Air, he could still breathe it, thank god. 

No, _God_ had nothing to do with this. 

He didn’t have legs any more.  Could he even GO on land still, as any more then crawling?  He flexed his webbed hands against the muddy bank and ignored how filthy his tattered pinstripe vest was.  He’d put it back on, he felt so…well he was still human wasn’t he?  Any self respecting Spy didn’t go around buck naked, _did they_? 

He flopped down on the bank and stared up at the stars.  He recalled vaguely when he escaped from those BLU guards; he was running on autopilot during the ordeal.  _Running_ , yes he recalled traversing land somehow.  Not swiftly, but still...

With the cool and safe blanket of night, he fumbled through trying to make his tentacles work in a manner for ‘walking’.  They didn’t respond as nicely as when he thought ‘swim’.  Thinking about walking like he remembered walking just produced a lot of painful tangled limbs.  He growled in frustration as his face smacked into the dusty ground for the tenth time.

As he did this, staying out of the water 5 minutes, 10 minutes...25 minutes...his throat began to feel dry – and his breaths slowly became shallow and labored.  It was like his throat was closing up, like not enough oxygen was getting to his body with each breath.  Not to mention the dry ground outside the riverbank caking on his tentacles uncomfortably.

He slipped back into the water. After a quick soak, breathing water through his system, he crawled back out, and he could breathe air just fine. The coordination exercises continued, and he just made sure to keep things damp with regular dunks into the canal.

His aggravation only grew as he discovered he not only looked quite aquatic - he WAS quite aquatic. 

It was to be assumed his lungs needed to be kept moist to work - that was the logical conclusion.  He wished he could see how his inner anatomy had changed...though that made him think of the word _dissection_.  So he put that out of his mind and got back to his ‘walking’ practice.

 

...

 

Not to be caught suffocating on land, the crafty spy had an idea. 

When he was adept enough, he stole a liquor flask from the RED Demoman the next chance he had, when his dead body was thrown into the canal.  He was the worst Demoman he’d ever seen! Stepped on his own stickybombs. He didn’t _need_ to be drinking any more than he was.

The tentaspy cleaned out the metal flask and filled it with fresh water.  He kept it in his vest’s breast pocket, or his inner jacket pocket if he was wearing that.  He could now sneak about for longer periods of time on land when he ventured out at night, though his tentacles required moisture after a while too.  They’d grow chapped and leathery like lips in the winter, and eventually would be painful to walk on and hard to move with strength.  Where they got coated with dusty earth it was only aggravated.  He lay out by the canal, sipping water from the flask, and testing the limits of dryness for his tentacles.

It was indeed breathing that was most important; he found the suckered limbs could hold moisture far longer then his breathing required.  Looking like a drunkard with a habit, Dominique periodically took inhaling sips from the flask. The flask gave him a lot of freedom from his ‘watery prison’, to think how such a simple thing could be so liberating.

Despite the uplift, the spy was still incredibly frustrated.

It had been a fortnight since his alteration...and he was really itching for relief from that kind of tingle only orgasm could provide.  It wasn’t just your usual need, sure men got horny, but this felt raw and beyond him like many things that clawed at his mind now.  It was this animalistic, alien heat inside him, and it didn’t help he had no idea how to satisfy it.

 

He hit a trigger one evening.  As he explored behind RED base, he caught a wiff of something like a good meal being cooked; only there was no smell of food.  It was the smell of arousal.  Not the odor, but the hormones, the very elements that made it inveigle your senses on a primal level.  He peeked into the window there, cracked to the outside as it was a cool, mild evening. 

There inside was the RED team’s Medic and Heavy, quite intertwined and muffling their cries so their teammates could not hear through the wall. 

A twinge of humor rose in the spy, thinking about how he’d back-stabbed both of them in tandem multiple times, one after the other.  Now he was seeing them in such a different light, not ruthless and intimidating on the field, but naked and sweaty, groaning in need. 

Though that didn’t change the fact he was there invisible; watching...just...watching.  Like some dirty voyeur.  Only his expression on his cloaked face was one of longing and jealousy.  HE wanted that...

When he couldn’t watch anymore he sank to the dew damp grass, tentacles coiling up to conserve moisture, but also in aroused confusion.  Mon dieu, he could still _smell_ them, like some fine perfume.  It was intoxicating!  He growled softly, a shaky hand removing his water flask from his tattered pin stripe suit.  Half of the water spilled down his face and chest as he tried to inhale a deep breath of it. 

Dominique made it back to the canal edge closest to the barracks.  He smoothly slid in and sunk to the bottom. The cool water washing through his system helped to douse the passion in his ‘groin’.  Maybe...maybe being this ramped up he could achieve some kind of release.  Maybe he could –  
  


His train of thought scattered as a shot of pleasure ran through him.  He writhed against the canal bottom, back arched to it.  A hand instinctively felt downwards, discovering a firm but prehensile appendage – and it wasn’t one of his tentacles.  
  
  
Seemed he wasn’t missing something after all.

  
It was incredible!  Release him hard and fast as he quickly discovered how amazing it felt to wrap his soft suckers all along his erect length, pulsing and squeezing.  He writhed in relief, a flurry of low _churrrs_ and _growls_ welling up in his throat.  The appendage, which indeed felt and resembled a foreskin-less human penis, had engorged to over three feet long.  It must have been hiding up inside him, in some kind of sheath or slit...  
  


“Ahhh...ahhhh...” He gasped, gills flaring wide, body limp with pleasure.      
  


This was at least one thing he had regained, that he thought he had lost.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was smoothed over /a lot/ and I am pleased with the changes. c: I continue to show Domi's altered body in subsequent chapters as he too becomes more comfortable with his body.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The years perform their terrible dance and for Dominique there are many victories as he becomes accustomed to his new life while evading detection. But is there a future to it all? What is his purpose? What does he do now?

Another thing Dominique really wanted…was a new suit.  
  


His pinstriped jacket was torn and bullet hole riddled. His vest was blood stained and threadbare.  Yes, living in water as he was currently his clothes would never be pristine but he did not like looking so _shabby_.

He was a spy, not a _hobo_. 

And he did not want to be nude _all_ the time, it was highly unprofessional.  Also keeping some semblance of humanity, of dignity, was something he was trying to cling to with all his might.   

His BLU team replacement that eventually came would mean new clothes in the wardrobe.  He just hoped he was the same size. When Domi was comfortable enough with his ‘walking’ skills, he decided to risk it. 

While the battle raged on outside during the day, the tentaspy slinked into the empty base from behind, and right into his old quarters.  A fresh suit was snagged from the new BLU Spy’s closet with a curling tentacle.  He inspected the garment; looked like a similar enough fit.  He shucked off his previous clothes that were practically rags by now, and tried them on.  A check in the room’s mirror confirmed, they fit well enough.  A quick tighten of the vest buckle on the back synched it up a little more to a better fit. He did not make it too tight though, his gills would need room to breathe.

Dominique took a look at the replacement Spy’s bed as he bundled up his old clothes to take with him.

 

That was _his_ bed.  Only a month ago, he would sleep there, dry and warm.

 

Dominique furrowed up his brow, choking back emotion, before he replaced it with a scowl of jeering anger.  The pillow and blanket were snatched up.  They were _his_ after all. BLU would replace them.  The Spy would think another mercenary took them.   

The pack of cigarettes on the dresser was left behind, purposefully.

Dominique had once been a pack a day smoker, but had kicked the habit through his physical ordeal the past month.   He realized how much he _really_ wanted a cigarette a few days into his new existence, but when he was able to get his hands on one and a book of matches, not to mention finding a rag to dry his hands off on, he was not well rewarded for his efforts.  When he exhaled he got a severe stinging in his gills.  Smoke escaped out the same passageway water usually went.  The delicate fimbriae seized like pouring salt in a wound.  It gave him such a coughing fit and sharp pain that it discouraged all thoughts of smoking again.  He reluctantly, and quickly, had to quit.

He would miss those swirling little smoke rings he used to blow; nothing could compare to the ease on his nerves that nicotine provided, but he’d eventually find other things to fill the void.  It was yet something else he had to give up.

 

...

 

Before heading back to the canal, the tentaspy swooshed into the kitchen like a low moving, tentacled panther.  He wasn’t going to win any speed races, but he was getting far better at moving about on land. 

He peeked in the fridge, biting his lip as he considered if he could steal some food.  Meanwhile, his tentacles explored into the kitchen sink, curiously going after the wetness they felt there.  Domi smelled at a jug of orange juice and then took a careful swig.  The tentacles managed to turn on the sink and squirt the spray wand out over and to the floor.  While this made his tentacles happy to be rewetted, Domi gasped at how much of a mess that made.  He instantly retracted his tentacles under his control.  There was a groan as he looked about for a towel. 

He was so occupied he almost did not hear an engineer stumbling in from Respawn.

“Merde!” Domi hissed to himself.  He darted to the first out of the way place he could think of – the top of the fridge and cabinets.  There was plenty of space between them and the ceiling to wedge himself. Being still as possible, his faulty Cloak and Dagger worked to make him completely invisible.  He prayed it would not short out any further.

 

It was Dexter…that was the engineer’s name. He used to be his teammate.

 

He’d joke with him about sappers whenever they used to cross paths in the showers. The man liked to pleasure himself while reading car magazines. He hated the smell of citrus, liked to play solitaire, always wore suntan lotion. These little things he liked to observe of people, when they didn’t know he was there.

“Well that’s a hell of thing.  Is the sink leakin’ again’?” The engineer noticed the wet floor.  He checked the sink pipes but all was in order.  He shrugged and grumbled, thinking how he’d have to check it more thoroughly later. 

Domi sighed in relief as the engineer left with a bottle of water, which must have been what he came in for.

If he knew he was alive, would he, or any of his team, still treat him like a teammate? Or would they shoot on sight, and finish the job BLU thought they accomplished?  
  


Better not risk it…he was pretty sure he wasn’t in Respawn anymore.  
  


…

…

…

 

Months turned into years.   
  


Soon three had passed.  
  


The mercenaries were transferred, fulfilled their contracts, or were killed by faulty Respawn.  New people replaced them.  Only a handful of them were left that would recognize Dominique’s face if they saw him.

While he was very good at hiding, there were a few times he was briefly seen from a distance.  A flash of tentacles or form in the dark. Could have been easily passed off as a wolf or coyote. Rumors of a ‘monster in the canals’ became amusing bonfire tales for the teams.  With people like they were, especially the drunk Demo and crazy Soldier, nothing was taken too seriously. The 'canal monster' was mythical.  As long as he remained that, and not something to hunt down for _real_ , Domi was content to hover above in trees or rafters and listen to their campfire stories.

The former spy kept up his love of observation. He’d become quite the voyeur, even more than he was before. It passed the time, kept him a part of things in some way. Now that he was ‘outside the system’ it was a whole new feeling.  He’d hide in corners as long as his drying tentacles could stand; carefully taking notes on wrinkled journal paper.  Later he would read from the water damaged pages in a hidden, dry alcove deep in the drainage pipes. It was decorated with bits of things he’d take from the bases.  Anything to feel more human, anything to remind himself he _was_ still human, and not let himself slip into an instinct driven routine.

He only used the alcove to spend time and store things.  Sleeping was done underwater, always.  At first it was strange and unsettling, but after three years, it was the new normal.  Breathing water was how he felt most comfortable – dry land was the alien place now.  His gills were well cared for and kept protected, also because he’d found how sensitive they were. 

He’d outfitted various ‘nests’ about the waterways; safe enclosed spaces far underwater to curl up and sleep undisturbed.  Most were concrete pipes lined with waterlogged grasses, leaves and stolen blankets or clothes.  He did have one outside the fence in the deepest part of the aquifer fed riverway, which was still not as deep as anywhere in the canals of Well, but was nicely protected under the curve of a sunken felled tree.             

His original pillow was kept dry inside in a sealed plastic bag in his air pocketed alcove, it sat next to rounds for his revolver, and little things like magazines and empty pop bottles. He’d stack damp cards till they fell over, and then play solitaire with them.  He’d try to make up new tricks flipping his balisong blade, draw into the concrete moss covered floor with his claws – all while slumped on his stomach with his tentacles draped into the water.  
  


He tried to avoid spinning his revolver barrel idly; he might become tempted to use it.  
  


...  
  


The altered Spy didn’t notice at first how much he ate, but it was actually quite a lot.

It was like his metabolism was high, that he needed more energy to keep all those tentacles running.  Also, from how many times he'd scraped and cut himself wandering around the bases, he realized his blood was slightly bluish.  It seemed it was a reasonable explanation for his skin being a different hue, not the warm glow of human skin, but instead like that of a half drowned person.  He’d sometimes stare at himself in a broken bit of mirror, examining the dark circles under his eye, as well as the points of his fangs. 

Dominique grew disenchanted with fish out of boredom, and he could only steal so much food before people took notice.  He tried catching more interesting game by venturing outside the bases during cool or rainy nights, sometimes even slipping out on land where the shipment trains would come in.  The trains were starting to come less frequently anyway, no need to worry of one hitting him.  Jackrabbits and wild foul made for interesting prey, and quite tasty ones at that.  It was a nice distraction.  
  


Though one day he tried something else as his taste buds and energy-needy body grew hungry for variety. 

The first time he plucked a body from the waters where it’d been blown he was disgusted at himself for feeling the urge to eat it, but found the taste…pleasant.   
  


It was a short-lived spate.  While he only picked off people who fell into the canals, it was a risky business that he could be seen while doing.  It was brought to a halt when the fourth day ticked by.  He caught sight of himself in a reflective metal surface as he stalked by on hands and tentacles.  His pupils were dilated to pinpoints, his fangs peeked out from curled lips, his back hunched and frill erect on his naked form.  He momentarily hissed at the reflection like out of reflex, but then stopped to consider the image there.

 

When had he taken off his vest and tie?   
  
He looked about himself and then to the stars above him.    
  
It was nighttime, and he was stalking into the RED base…why?  What was he doing there?

What DAY was it?

No _that_ , _this_ wasn’t him.

His very image in the reflection seemed to change as sense came back into his eyes, and his posture softened.    
  
He now could recognize himself.    
  
Yes that was him.

…he went back to fish and jackrabbits.

If he let himself slip too far; he feared he really _would_ become that monster.

 

...

 

The fourth year passed.

 

It did not rain much, but Dominique loved it when it did.

 

He could stay out as long as he wanted, lungs and tentacles kept nicely wet. It let him wander farther from the riverbed to explore and hunt at his leisure.

He stalked after a jackrabbit.  A nice big one too.  Low to the ground he looked a lot like a tiger in tall grass.   Tentacles crept around to the left of the grazing creature.  Its ears perked, seeing Domi stalking up from the front.  _That’s it; flee away that way, away from the sharp teeth…_

The rabbit ran into his waiting tentacles, which entwined and brought it right to his mouth.  A quick bite of fangs, and the jackrabbit stopped struggling within seconds.  It was a skill he’s learned near the end of year one, that he was venomness.  At his control, his fangs were like hypodermic needles to inject anything from a paralyzing, to a lethal dose, of venom.  It was more desirable than squeezing his prey to death in his tentacles, in terms of keeping the meat more intact without bone fragments crushed into the muscle. 

It was easy work for his claws and sharp teeth to cut apart the animal.  He sometimes used his balisong to get a more precise cut, or just to feel refined, even though no one was watching.

Domi found it amazing how he could eat all this raw food without getting sick; he had no doubt his body chemistry had changed for _that_ too. It reminded him of sushi, that clean, mild taste of fresh meat. It was wonderful how delicious raw meat could taste...

Picking flesh off the jackrabbit’s leg like it was a buffalo wing, Dominique lazed his tentacles over the nest he’d made in a high corner of the BLU base, which resembled a factory on the outside.  A large, broken pipe made for a lovely high perch to watch people. He’d dragged fabric and grasses up there over the years, and with some jugs of water he could stay up there for hours even when it was not raining, as the padded scoop held water like a wading puddle to keep his tentacles moist.

With the bases rainy and the factory buildings lit up for the evening, it was actually rather beautiful.

It reminded him of Paris...be it a run down, industrial, rusty Paris (with a healthy dose of imagination).  All the little lights through the fog and rain, he tried to picture the factory tower by RED Base as the Eiffel tower.  Maybe if he squinted.  The lit building and warehouse windows were like the city lights.

Trying to toss the rabbit bones into a rusty bucket on the next catwalk down, Dominique sighed and stared again at that distant river like he had many times before. He thought while idly flicking his balisong open and closed in a twirling motion.

 

_CLICK, chink...CLICK, chink....Click click CHINK...._

 

Maybe he really should try to make it to the ocean...if the rivers that fed to the base really even led to there and didn’t dead end at a lake somewhere.  If he could, then he could get to the Mediterranean somehow, or the coast of Europe. “That’s where you could go, back where you came from, yes?” He thought, “But that is very far...would you make it out there?  How would you find your way?”

He’d traveled the world; he was not in need of _sightseeing_.  It would be dangerous.  The open sea was unknown and vast, no doubt full of sharks.

Even if he _could_ find his way back to Europe, he’d still be just as limited by his aquatic nature and faulty disguise kit.  He’d still be an invisible person, spying on people.  He couldn’t sit in his favorite corner café, he couldn’t woo anyone, and he couldn’t enjoy a glass of wine on a hotel balcony. 

 

What would Paris be...if he was alone?

 

…

…

…

 

The fifth year _crept_ by.

 

Dominique had somehow avoided being discovered by the BLU scientists who wanted him as a science experiment.  As of lately, they seemed to not be around much behind the scenes. It was like they were letting the mercenaries have more freedom in their spare time.  Or they got the equipment working to their satisfaction, because Respawn was not frying as many people as it used to. It was a rare occurrence compared to when the spy first came.

 

Or perhaps they just didn’t care.

 

Either way, the territory war went on.  They still cared about _that_.  The trains kept coming with supplies, and Dominique would watch them like a perched, invisible vulture up in the station rafters.

He would ride one out if he could, but there was no way he’d survive to civilization, or anywhere with water. There was nothing but half-deserted farmland and grassland as far as the eye could see. The closest _flowing_ river he could see was too far to walk to unless it was raining, if his tentacles could even carry him that far before he tired.

He was trapped, for all intents and purposes, unless he was to risk his life doing something _crazy_. 

Was he too scared to take risks now?  Dominique thought about this as he cleaned his revolver idly, sitting under twilight outside the base’s fence line. 

Was he too much of a coward to face the fact that this was the end of the line for him?  It was no life to spend day after day hiding, simply surviving, in the shadows of this pointless, endless territory war.  This is what an animal would do.  Sleep, wake, eat, survive, repeat.  The little games he played with himself had no impact.  Taking notes of everyone, keeping tabs on the trains and the teams.  He played no role in their goings on. 

He was a ghost, an information broker with no one to deal with.

He spun the barrel of the white-handled revolver and clicked it back into place.

There was a period of time he started to find joy in his simple existence.  Perhaps by the middle of year two.  He loved laying out under the stars, being self sufficient, being free to sleep as long as he wanted.   He hunted for himself, was tough against the elements, could sleep anywhere he wanted underwater.  He took joy in his freedom in the water, embraced his new body as he was amazed at how dexterous his tentacles were.  By year four he’d tamed his impulses for the most part, felt in control.  He was a formidable creature now indeed, not one you’d want to cross paths with…   
  


But now what?    
  
Now that he had nothing left to master about the bases and himself, there was no more new challenges for him. 

Dominique was bored.

And _lonely_.

His hands quivered as he lowered the barrel of the revolver away from where it was petting against his temples like the compassionate hand of a lover.

 

No… this…this wasn’t what he wanted.

 

He put the revolver into its holster, and slipped into the water to head back into the canals. 

 

…

 

The next day, a RED engineer accidentally walked in front of his own sentry as it was firing at a BLU.   Respawn fried him.

 

A new RED engineer came.

 

Dominique observed him as he did every new team member, starting a ‘file’ on the individual.

The engineer’s name was Lance Mason; He was American, and southern, not unlike many of the engineers actually.   This one was from Austin Texas specifically. Short, 5’ 4”, stocky build, velvet fuzzed head with dirty blonde hair.  Because of the heat during the day, he didn’t always wear the team colored RED shirt, so you could see his light scruff of chest and armpit fuzz where it poked out from under his not-so-formfitting reddish brown overalls.

This engineer was a bit aloof, not unfriendly, just...he seemed to avoid the larger classes and keep to his workshop when the day’s fighting was over, though he also spotted the man getting to know his teammates over a few bottles of beer to grease the social gears.  Very laid back but not cocky, even if he liked to joke he was ‘the better man’ whenever he got the best of a BLU.

Of course he was a genius of machinery.  Though, this engineer seemed more artist than mechanic when compared to other engineers.  He spent long hours drawing detailed blueprints, and crafting a design that was sleek and beautiful, not _just_ functional.  A form to follow function, and a function to the atheistic beauty of the form.  For a man like the Spy, who was accustomed to the art of the Louvre and the romantic nature of his homeland, it stirred interest and a sense of sophistication he admired.

The Tentaspy continued his observations into another week.  To his amusement many of the fancy designs of the engineer did not work; they were too weak overall to withstand heavy combat.  Because of this, he usually used the standard issue, bulkier designs during the day’s fighting.  The special designs were done on the side, though his sleek designs often built quicker. The man was entertaining in his artistic frustration, but the engineer kept at it.

The notes went down in Dominique’s journal files. Everyone had secrets, and he wanted them all.  New team members held his attention for a while, distracted him from his boredom and loneliness. Then it’d be back to the same routine...

But there was something about the new engineer’s eager creativity that kept the tentaspy’s attention. Dominique found himself watching the man a little more closely for weeks to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a lot of things in this part to expand on what was going on in Domi's head, from his struggle against instincts, to really show his despair and why he feels that way. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominique hangs around the engineers, learning all he can about the new members, Lance, and the extra hire Roscoe. Domi's interest to aid the artistic engineer in his machine endeavors leads to Domi to take measures he has not taken before.

Dominique sat coiled in a damp corner watching the RED Engineers work one evening.

To Dominique’s fortune the ‘artistic’ Engineer liked to smelt metals at RED’s outside furnace, heating them up to hand pound and shape. It was not far from the canal, and near some drainage pipes and shrubs. It was so close because to quick-cool the pieces the canal made for an easy dipping pot.

The dirty blond engineer didn’t know what it was, but sometimes he swore he was being watched since arriving at the RED base.

“Hey pardner, do those spahs ever...well spah on their own teammates?”  Lance asked of a fellow engineer, who had come by to shape metal as well.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” The older man grumbled, glancing up only briefly from his work.

Domi furrowed his brow, tentacles curling.  Not like they could reach him where he was, but he never liked it when his mark got the ‘hebbie jeebies’.  He stayed put and continued listening…

_CLANG, CLINK, CLANG, CLINK_

“Those invi-watches sure are an interestin’ piece of machinery.” Lance stated as he put the chunk of metal back in the furnace.  It looked like it could be the workings of a sentry support leg, albeit far more artistically shaped.  

“Even more complex inside then a watch, if you think normal watches had tiny gears.” The older engineer replied. 

“I’ve fixed watches, built some even.  Some can be…very beautiful inside if you know what I mean.  Beautiful as in nicely designed, all those small parts, everything fitting like peas in a pod.”  Lance held a piece of metal up to a schematic blueprint for a sleek sentry, making sure it was sized and shaped properly.

The current RED team actually had three engineers; it was easy for Domi to tell them apart at a distance as Lance was typically hatless, while the other two liked to wear Stetsons, one in black, the other in white.  Also they were a range of ages, assuming when they said their ages for Domi to overhear that they were telling the truth. 

The one in a white Stetson – Roscoe, 35 years of age, bald, blue eyed…had come about two weeks after Lance, most likely an over-hire misfile when their second Engineer was killed, as the team didn’t _really_ need three engineers. 

The oldest – William, 46 years of age, graying brown haired, gray eyed, was the one Lance was speaking to at that moment by the furnace.  He was there long before the other two. 

Lance had mentioned at one point he was ‘around 40’ which would make him between the other two in age.

“Well, it sure is nice having unlimited materials, but the _selection_ is a bit restricted,” Lance muttered to himself as he fixed a curled piece of RED metal to another for an outside panel of his sentry.

“We’re given what is required to build what we need for the team,” William replied.

“I wonder how that BLU metal welds...” Lance kept talking to himself.

Dominique chuckled softly as he idly played with his water flask, turning it over in his webbed hands. What did the laborer mean by that?  How would BLU’s metal be any different building dispensers and sentries?

When he was dried enough for it to be uncomfortable, the tentaspy snuck around in the shadows behind the engineers to get back to the canal.  His faulty cloak flickerered, but the noise of them banging metal made them plenty distracted not to notice.  He slipped into the water silently, last of his tentacles disappearing like thick noodles sliding into soup. 

Looking up, he saw and heard the hiss of hot metal hitting the water’s surface as one of the engineers quick cooled a piece of metal.  It’s hot orange glow vanished in an instant, and so did Domi as he swam away into the depths.  
  


He was still thinking about the engineer’s muttering as he hunted for dinner.  To his observations - BLU was more industrial than RED, with BLU base being concrete and metal, while RED was ‘homely’ with wood and brick on the outside.  Maybe BLU did manufacture a very different kind of metal, though he swore BLU’s sentries looked the same as RED’s.  
  


The ‘puzzle’ gnawed at him for a day or two, and while listening to the battle rage on topside muffled through the water, he considered making use of that scrap metal left behind from the day’s territorial war.  
  


After the end of day bell rang, when the BLU Engineer wasn’t looking, Dominique crept up behind him and snagged some of his sentry’s remains in his tentacles.  With the metal securely in his suckers, he swam through the tunnels and brought his gatherings to the RED side of the field, hiding them in a corner so he could think.

Now there was no way he could just HAND them over, and leaving BLU metal there like a present with no wherewithal would be more than suspicious.  He had to make this look orderly.  He had to make this look credulous.  He had to be sneaky and cunning about this – he had to be...a Spy. 

A pleased grin curled across his face.    
  
It was like he had a mission again...be it this was silly and self-imposed – but....    
  
It was something with purpose. 

In his scheming, Dominique formulated a plan.  He had noticed the new RED Engineer seemed friendly with their team’s Heavy.  Not amazingly buddy buddy, but enough that, combined with that the Heavy was often on the BLU side of the field being offensive with their Medic, and was strong enough to carry it, made it believable that he could  gather sentry metal scrap to bring back.  This, and the Russian was also friends with William, as both had been on the team together for some time.  It could be assumed he might have told the Russian about what Lance said in off hand conversation, especially over a beer.

Forging handwriting styles was actually one of his fortes.  Dominique gave a pleased chuckle as he had not lost his touch, and he produced a believable note from the Heavy to Lance as he sat there on top of the scrap in a shadowed corner by the canal, tentacles curling about it like a dragon protecting treasure.  He’d take this and leave it on the pile of scrap outside the RED Engineer’s workshop and –

But then as he thought about it more, he realized, he needed to have some security that Lance would not mention it to William or the REAL Heavy...and leaving a discreet note did not seem like the Russian’s style.   He’d want to hand it over personally to get praises from his team mate.  He was a big man and never subtle.

Dominique crumpled up the note and coiled his tentacles more around the pile of waiting scrap.    
  
For the Russian to hand it over...to hand it over in person....

 

For his plan to work, he’d need a working disguise kit. 

 

Because of the fear of being put into a vulnerable situation and captured if discovered, Dominique never attempted contact in the past 5 years. 

But now...with every member on each team who had known him while he worked for BLU dead or transferred, no one was left that would recognize him in the least.  Also, the teams seemed to be working quite autonomously of their companies, with no workers living there behind the scenes like they were when the Spy was working for BLU.  The Respawn systems were stabilized – everything was working with (relative) smoothness with no need for a ‘babysitter’.   

So now was the perfect time for the altered Spy to take risks - and he finally had motivation to do so.  Once that idea got into his head of SPEAKING to people again, disguising and impersonating members like old times, he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

Dominique used those note forging skills once more, to impersonate the RED Spy...

…

Lance came into the workshop after the day’s battle and clicked on the bulb to his workbench.  He put down his wrench and hesitated with his toolbox as he noticed something on his desk. 

It was a disguise kit – the kind the team Spy would use during battle to impersonate others.  He recognized it right away – but god damn, it was in bad shape.  He picked it up and noticed a note sticking out of it. Lance could practically hear the RED Spy’s snarky French accent in his head as he read it,

 

_Dear Laborer,_

_My disguise kit has become a bit waterlogged using the canals to infiltrate BLU, and is malfunctioning.  You seem to have an eye for small details – fix this before tomorrow’s battle, would you?  Slide it under my door for me when you are done._

_Merci,_

_Spy_

 

“Merci indeed,” The engineer grumbled to himself, “Couldn’t even come in person, lazy, anti-social spah just leaving stuff lying ‘round.” He sighed.  But after the initial annoyance, the Engineer got excited.  He’d get to inspect some spy tech up close, and perhaps make a new friend, or at least be owed a favor.  He got to taking apart the damaged kit...and was soon engrossed and intrigued by the delicate technology that made it tick. 

It was fascinating!  It was a lot like a watch in the intricacy of its mechanics, small parts crammed into an even smaller space, all within a cigarette case like device.  Lance was curious now to get a hold of one of the cloaking watches too.  He wondered what THOSE looked like if this device was so interesting!

 _‘Damn this thing really IS water damaged...’_ Lance mused as he blew away solder smoke before it clogged up his nostrils. _‘He must use the drainage and canal systems to get to BLU all the time.’_

The engineer re-soldered all the connections on its circuit board, re-adjusted its kinetic powered quartz charging system, and installed new seals so water could not get in again.  He was very intricate in small details, more artist than mechanic at that moment – fixing the miniature, complicated tech of the disguise kit was no problem for him. It looked almost good as new when he was done with it.

A job well done, Lance fell asleep at his desk as it was far beyond when he normally stayed up, the repaired kit under him.

 

Keeping tabs on his gear...was the real owner.

 

Dominique had been coming in periodically (to and fro from the canals through the cover of night), peeking in the open back window, slinking up to the rafters, faulty cloak flickering.  However the engineer was deep in work with his back to him, there was little risk of being seen. 

The tentaspy panicked when he saw the engineer asleep. _“No no no he must slide it under his door while he is asleep!  If he does so in the morning the RED Spy might be awake and see it, and I won’t be able to snag it!”_ Domi thought.

He looked around for something he could pick up and throw to make noise to wake him.  But just as he was about to do so, the door creaked open.

It was Roscoe, the newest engineer - coming in with some things to put at his work bench.  It was obvious he had been working outside, hence why Lance had been alone all evening in the shop.

He noticed his fellow engineer asleep at his workbench.  “Lance?” He piped up lowly, coming over to shake his shoulder.

“NNggg?” The hatless engineer lifted his head as he woke up from a deep sleep.

“Heh, this is no place to snooze pardner, gunna git a stiff neck like that, ya hear?” Roscoe chuckled.

“I...ahh yea...” Lance yawned, not fully awake.

“Workin’ hard on something?”  Roscoe questioned.

“Jes fixin’ the Spah’s disguise kit,” He hopped to his feet, and stretched his stout body, the kit in hand.

“Keepin us busy, are they?  The variety is nice at least,” Roscoe picked up his wrench; he liked to keep that with him in his living quarters.

“Yea,” The older man replied as they both left the shop, turning off the lights. 

Suddenly he remembered that the Spy needed this before morning. “I’m gonna git to mah real bed,” He gave a small wave and smile to his comrade, who gave a quick ‘goodnight’ in return as he disappeared into his room.  Lance made a beeline for the Spy’s room. 

Soon as Domi saw them leave the shop, and the direction Lance went, he went for the same place on the outside of the building.

The kit just made it under the crack at the bottom of the door.  “Better not STEP on it when he gits up,” Lance muttered to himself, chuckling with another yawn, heading right for bed.

On the other side of the door...the window was opening silently.  The RED Spy was sleeping in his bed just under the window frame, making only small sounds of snoring. His blankets were akimbo, showing he had fallen asleep on his back, in his slightly dirty shirtsleeves and vest; his tie loosened and not straight.

Dominique pressed himself in halfway, avoiding being directly over the Spy.  His tentacles would reach all the way to kit by the door if he could just balance himself to make the stretch, and concentrate enough so one wouldn’t wander to poke at the sleeping Spy.

He furrowed his brow, balaclava scrunching.  He gripped onto the wall with suckers, and to the window frame with his claws, making sure to not grip so hard it left obvious marks.  An outstretched tentacle snaked down, the tiniest of sucker tips catching on the disguise kit’s casing.  It was reeled in, and then gripped more securely by a coil of tentacle as it was in reach. 

In his quiet flexibility maneuver, he had just slightly leaned into the RED Spy’s space.  A drip of water trailed off his pinstriped suit and fell right onto the unmasked man’s cheek. 

 

The tentaspy froze as the RED Spy stirred, blue eyes snapping open.

 

He was muttering something in French as he felt over the wet spot on his slightly stubbly cheek. He must have not been fully awake, as while his eyes opened he didn’t seem to really take in anything going on.  Dominique WAS cloaked, but since he was in a strained position, his faulty cloak was flickering as a confusion of shape. 

The RED Spy’s eyes closed, and he rolled to his side, sleep crashing over him again. 

Dominique breathed a sigh of relief.  That was a close call.

Though while he was mentally celebrating and concentrating on taking his disguise kit out of his tentacle’s grasp, an un-managed tentacle was casually snaking down the RED Spy’s shirt.

 

That DID wake the man.

 

“AAaagGnnnn!” The RED Spy flailed, the unknown sensation making him startle reflexively like someone feeling crawling down their neck and thinking it’s a spider in their shirt. The suckers latched onto him the harder he pulled to get it out.  They had a hold on something interesting, they wanted more of it.  Dominique hissed, falling off balance as he was suddenly yanked on and completely caught off guard at the contact.

What was at first a reflex action, soon became a real moment of fear and confusion as the RED Spy saw the flickering mass of shape around him.  He recognized that cloak flicker, but he did _not_ understand the shapes he was seeing.  Like a cat, he reached for his balisong on the nightstand, hand closing around the weapon as his wrist was grabbed by a striking, slimy appendage.  Good thing he only needed one hand to open it.  With a fast flick he whirled the blade open, and flailed his arm to stab anything he could reach.

An inhuman snarl rang out as the RED Spy stabbed into something soft.  The shock of pain made Domi’s unruly suckers detach and recoil from the Spy’s clothes.  He fell out backwards from the window, falling to the dusty ground with a _THUD_.

The RED Spy jumped to his feet, glancing around the room frantically and brandishing his knife.  His clothes and hair even more askew then they were before.  He looked almost comical, especially with his plain red briefs the only thing adorning his lower half.  The Frenchman cautiously looked out the open window, and saw nothing there.  It was eerily quiet, not a sound of foot steps or struggling. 

He _knew_ he hit something with his blade.  He put a finger to the windowsill...seeing wetness there in the moonlight.  A mixture of slime-like substance and water, and on his balisong was a dark, blue-purple colored liquid.  Was that even blood?  What WAS that thing that attacked him? 

Dominique quickly broke for the canal.  Soon as he was out of earshot he stopped holding his breath and wheezed against the tightness and pain in his chest.  His side was bleeding profusely.  The RED Spy had stabbed him right in the gills.  He could taste iron and copper in his throat as he dangled half of himself into the water.  He wasn’t sure if it was better to rest his gills and sit out there breathing blood-gurgled air, or go in the water and breathe smoothly, but with one damaged gill. 

He groaned and grit his teeth, holding his side as the pain was making it hard to think straight.  His gills were a sensitive organ, richly supplied with blood, and always mucous membrane damp like lips or eyes.  He took off his damaged suit and shirt, so he could directly apply pressure to the wound.  Dominique knew he could heal fast; having survived being shot up by the BLU guards proved that...but it didn’t make it hurt any less.  And fast wasn’t fast enough as he sat there sputtering. 

He decided the cold of the water might help numb the pain, so he slipped in fully to test his breathing.  Air choked out of his lungs and the pain intensified before the cold got to it.  It was like having asthma for a while as his blood clotted and his damaged gill pumped irregularly.  Even so, it was better than sputtering on land, so he kept there on the bottom.  Eventually the cool water did help soothe the pain, and he sighed with relief through stammered breaths. Dominique slumped over, able to relax as the bleeding stopped, but he was light headed from the loss of blood.  His tentacles coiled with slowly decreasing agitation.

While he had been (partially) seen, he had succeeded – he had a working disguise kit.  If he was lucky the RED Spy would keep his anti-social mouth shut, or if he told anyone, they’d just laugh and say he had dreamed it in a drunken hangover.

 

Dominque used his removed clothing as a pillow for his head, curling into a safe feeling pipe to rest and heal for the night. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominique uses his newly fixed disguise kit to infiltrate the RED base...to deliver a present. He also learns more about the crafty RED engineer through...'research'.

While his injured gill was very sore the next day making breaths achy and unpleasant, Dominique felt well enough to drag himself onto dry land to test his repaired gear.  The excitement alone was sufficient to over take the discomfort. 

 

It was like Christmas morning. 

 

In a deserted area of the shipping train yard, just beyond the fence and gates, the tentaspy took out the disguise kit.  It looked almost good as new.  His claws slid over the casing, feeling the tight seals and admiring its restoration.  The engineer did quite a good job with it, as expected with his track record in detailed mechanics.

Domi clicked it open and chose a disguise from the interface; the most obvious choice for a test run.  He watched himself in a shiny metal piece of sheeting like it was a mirror, and stood up on his tentacles. 

His image shimmered briefly like a whisper of smoke as the hologram took effect.  When it cleared, to an observer he would have looked just like any normal BLU spy.  No webbed hands, no sharp teeth, most importantly – no tentacles.    

 

Legs, _his_ legs, like he used to have.

 

He felt over the pinstriped pants, his ass, the curve of his thighs, and craned to see his backside in the mirror.  It was merely a façade, his hands were still webbed and he still felt the soft muscle of his tentacles, but the visual, it was amazing to see.

He had to keep his appendages curled in around himself to stay within the cloak.  He could even ‘walk’.  When he moved on his tentacles like he’d taught himself over the years to get around on land, the illusion’s legs moved like any human walking.

It was quite a thrill...to see himself with legs.  It had been half a decade.  It was both wonderful and bittersweet.  In fleeting fantasy, it was like everything was it used to be, as it should be. 

But harsh reality told him it was nothing but smoke and mirrors.  As comfortable and habitual he’d become with his new self and the many wonders of his underwater world, the back of his mind never stopped missing a warm dry bed, cigarettes, and the personable company of others.  If he had the choice, he’d give anything to be the way he was.  
  
Dominique sat down on a crate, stretching his ‘legs’ as he poked though his disguise kit’s memory banks to make sure everything was still there and worked properly.  The data patterns for long since dead or gone team members still existed, like ghosts of the past.  He glanced over the data for Boleslav, the current RED Heavy.  He would be next...but the tentaspy had to wait until he was healed more.  
  


Patience…

 

...

 

Meanwhile at Breakfast in RED Base, the RED Spy was not as cocky as usual.  
  


On a typical morning, he just sauntered in while lighting a cigarette, grabbed toast and eggs, and strode right out.  But today, the man looked poorly rested, suspicious, glancing about like he expected something to jump out at him.

“Didn’t get enough beauty rest, Sheila?” The Sniper snickered under his breath as he was getting rations for himself, just barely glancing up.  He too was normally only seen briefly before he disappeared to his nest for the day’s fighting.

The Spy was already displeased, and quickly drew his balisong and brandished it at the Australian, “If you are going to insult me, do eet to my FACE, or my knife will ‘ave something to say to your BACK.”

Lance stopped mid bite of his bacon and eggs on toast, eyes widening behind his goggles at the sudden tenseness between the Spy and Sniper.  Sure spies and snipers didn’t mix, and the men could get rough sometimes, but he’d never been so close to the argument as he was right then.

“Woah woah bloody hell, calm yer arse down Frog!” The Sniper threw his hands up to go with an accompanying gesture of ‘ _get that the hell away from me._ ’

The Spy flicked his blade closed, and adjusted his suit while muttering under his breath.  He put jam on toast and sat at the table to eat, all eyes staring at him.  He NEVER sat at the table. 

The cluster of three engineers was like a little hive of dark-eyed bees all watching in unison.  The large Russian sat between them and the Frenchman, like some human iron curtain, making the engineers feel safer from the deranged-looking Spy. 

“You look a mighty’bit spooked there pardner’,” Roscoe piped up, peeking around the Heavy, a bit naively as he was newer and did not know the Spy’s habits anyway.   

“Spook the spook,” The Sniper chucked brazenly, making his leave for his nest with a final scowl at the Spy.

“Da, something has happened?” Boleslav chimed in, looking both tactically suspicious and mildly concerned.

Lance wondered this as well...his team mates basically asking his questions for him as he sat evaluating the situation.  What happened to the Spy?  He saw or heard nothing when he dropped off his kit.  Maybe he just drank too much and didn’t sleep well.  The Engineer was also thinking how it’d be polite to get some kind of thanks or recognition for his work he did, _without_ prompting.  Even if it was in his job description to fix things, manners were always obliged with personal favors.  Also to make some friends outside his enclave of engineer’s would be nice.  Having allies was always a good thing, especially amongst a crew of questionable mercenaries.

The RED Spy wanted to mention what happened, but how crazy would he sound to tell of a ‘monster’ attacking him in bed?  He _did_ go to sleep a bit tipsy last night.  Hit the cheap wine bottle a little harder than usual (that crap they sent on supply trains could BARELY be called wine). 

But he could not have dreamed it, that blood on his knife was real.  Those marks on his chest were _real_.

Lance was going to ask about the disguise kit, when the Spy pointed his finely gloved finger around to all of them, “Something is up around ‘ere,” He narrowed his eyes, “Keep watch on yourselves.”

After the cryptic warning, he left with the rest of his breakfast.

“What in tarnation was that all about?” William whispered huskily, looking to the side.  No one seemed to take his warning too seriously.  It was a warzone, course things were dangerous _all the time_.  The Spy was just being paranoid.

“I don’t know,” Lance narrowed his eyes in thought; “I was up late last night fixin’ his disguise kit and some thanks I get,” he sighed in a grumble.

“Oh yea?”

“And when I slid it under his door to return it I didn’t see or hear nothin’ unusual.”

“He was jes drunk and is hung over,” The oldest engineer replied, “Ignore him, backstabbers are all paranoid.”

 

...

 

The hot day dragged for the men, but for no one more than Dominique. 

He hunted crayfish in the thin layer of rocks and sticks on the bottom of the Well canals, listening to the booms of rockets exploding overhead.  ‘ _Patience_...’ he told himself, picking the claws off a crayfish and nibbling them like hard shelled pretzel nuggets. 

If only he knew what transpired as the RED team ate breakfast – his cover almost been blown.  If Lance had asked about the disguise kit, suspicions might have been raised all through the base before he infiltrated it. 

After a few appetizers Domi went after larger prey.  With his side aching, he stayed put and waited until fish drifted past, then he’d strike with his tentacles.  A few fish later, the tentaspy was sated and curled up to rest.    

Evening came, the sounds of war above silent at last.  Dominique awoke and immediately checked his gills.  The injury was almost gone visually, but it was still tender.  He tried a deep breath; his gill flaring wide, causing him to wince.  That hurt, but normal breathing was alright.

He really should have waited another day or two…but he was so _eager_ to enact his plan. 

He sneaked into the Respawn room and tucked his gathered BLU scrap into a corner with his tentacles.  Dominique waited inside the showers, which were connected to Respawn, for when the engineer would be walking by.  The showers were close to the workshop in relation to their position along the hallway; it was a convenient waiting spot.

Cloaked invisible in a dim corner of the showers, he waited for the smells and sounds of his mark.  The dampness was extra strain off his injured gill.  He was feeling weaker than usual because of it, but he’d not done this, eager as he was, if he wasn’t up to being on land at all.

 

He was a patient hunter, only today his prey was not for eating. 

 

Dominique found himself more _excited_ by the anticipation of his ‘scheme’ then he first thought.  He had stayed out of the affairs of the teams for his own safety...but now, he was bored enough to be bold and take some risks.  The former BLU spy wanted so badly to be a part of things again, do ANYTHING that mattered or created change. 

Besides, he owed that artistic engineer now.  This was only fair, yes? 

His tentacles curled with expectancy as he sat waiting.

Suddenly, the RED Medic came into shower.  

Being the day ended some time ago and all who cared to bathe should have done so and gone to dinner, Domi hissed to himself at the unexpected intrusion. 

He silently watched the German do his ablutions.  He was always quite fastidious, understandably.  The tentaspy had done this before, watching the men in the showers.  He’d almost become grabby in the past, but always held back.  Their exposed flesh, wet and slick with soap, body hair matted down with the flow of the water…

This particular medic had a good bit of chest hair.  Dark with flecks of gray like the hair on his head.

It was then he smelled the scent of his mark, coming up the hallway.

 _‘Merde,’_ he hissed to himself. He kept an eye on the German, waiting for him to turn his back.

“Mmm?”  The doctor turned his head, hearing a noise in the locker room.  He peeked around the corner, curious as he heard no one else there before.  He left the heat of the shower to check the locker room.

“Boleslav!  I didn’t even hear you come in,” The doctor chuckled, nearly bumping into the large Russian as he rounded the corner. 

The Heavy inched back, he was fully clothed, and holding a pile of scrap metal.  Dominique didn’t want the medic to touch him and feel through his disguise…

“Da!  Doktor, I didn’t know you were in showers either,” The ‘Russian’ chuckled, smiling.  The spy knew all the team mates well from his voyeuristic activities.  The Medic and Heavy were close.  He could play this part.

The Medic tried to advance, a sudden dark lust in his eyes and a grin on his lips, “You vhere vhroking hard today too, vhy not join me?”

“Nyet, I can not.  I don’t want to get this metal wet, it will rust!” He deeply laughed, smiling, “Eet is for Engineer, so he can build bigger guns to crush leetle baby BLU team.”

“How vunderful!  You picked zhat up from the BLU side, ja?” He gave a look over the metal, being very unabashed of his nudity which was right up in Dominique’s face. 

He tried not to glance about.  _Keep in character…keep in character._   His tentacles coiled on themselves in knots.  He could SMELL the hormones as they wafted off the German, that masculine sex drive welling up in him the second he started conversing with what he thought was his bed partner.

“Da, and I saw Engineer coming up hallway, so I wanted to get it to him tonight.” Domi hefted up the pile of metal, which in reality was being mostly supported by tentacles, which were stronger than his own arms, “Come see me when you are done in your room?” Boleslav smirked.  Dominique had seen the Russian go in there earlier so he assumed, and hoped, he was still reading in the Medic’s quarters.

The tentaspy was beginning to curse himself for not ‘warming up’ with simple espionage and interactions before jumping right into the middle of the RED base.  He was proud he was holding it together this coolly, his training was so deeply ingrained, but at the same time it was making his heart beat so fast to be interacting directly with people again.  It had been so _long_. 

However, the first person to he bumped into just HAD to be the Medic cooing over his Russian lover.  The hormones were intense, he knew how he was sensitive to them, and despite knowing this it still surprised him how much it was affecting him.

“Alright alright, I see you are eager,” The German shooed him, “But have no doubt, I’ll be seeing you soon.” His wide, toothy grin was both mischievously playful as it was fearsome.

Dominique knew what the Heavy would do; he’d want to give a goodbye kiss...especially to rush out on the doctor.  He kept his cool.  He leaned over and gave a kiss to the man’s forehead, and then quickly made his leave.  The Medic was none the wiser, though he did feel the kiss was wetter than usual.

Thankfully Lance had taken his time, and was just going into the workshop when ‘The Heavy’ ran up.  
  


“Engineer!” The Russian bellowed, stopping up a little too close for comfort to the Texan.  
  


“Woah there big fella!” Lance backed up, “What’s the hurry?” He eyed that pile of metal in the man’s grasp, smoothing over his velvet short hair with a hand.  He wouldn’t wonder for long -

“These for you,” The Heavy thrust the pile at him.  The Engineer was taken off guard and nearly fell over from the sudden weight, but he adjusted and soon was grasping it in a similar fashion he’d hold his large toolbox.

“Fer me?” Lance looked shocked, but soon he was grinning, “Hey, this is _BLU_ Metal!  How’d you get this?”

“Leetle birdie told me you need stronger metal to make weapons to kill BLU’s.  So I take these from battlefield where I crush BLU engineer’s sentry.” The Heavy hit his fist into his palm, grinning with satisfaction.  Then he shrugged, looking casual like it was no big deal. 

Behind the cloak, the tentaspy knotted his tentacles on each other, the urge to reach out and touch was stronger than he anticipated, and the encounter with the Medic did NOT help.

“This is mighty fine!  I can’t believe you did that...” Lance thought to himself, ‘ _William you devil’._ “Thank ya kindly!  I think I’ll be able to make GREAT guns with this for mah designs!”

“Don’t tell other engineer, will think I told on him.  No need for anymore thanks, just make good weapons to get BLU team.” The Heavy held up his big hands.

“A Texas gentleman never tells when asked to keep a secret, consider it done pardner,” The small man nodded, furrowing his brow over his welding goggles.

“Is good, Удачи,” The Russian gave a comrade hand wave, and walked off.

 

The tentaspy made right for the back door, sneaking out and cloaking to the safety of invisibility.  As the stress of the moment was over, his trained concentration for infiltration receded and he could truly revel in his success.   Like endorphins straight to the brain, that rush of interaction, infiltration, making eye contact and the other fully believing you were someone else.  It was wonderful. 

The tentaspy shivered with excitement as he rolled into the canal waters, tentacles fanning out and stretching.  Keeping himself so compressed in the disguise, and not being able to touch, was hard on him physically. He writhed happily and chuckled to himself.

He’d keep a closer eye on that Engineer now, to see what he made.  Made with the materials _he_ gave him.  There was change happening because of him…

…

…

…

Over the next few days, it was to the RED Engineer’s delight the BLU metal allowed him to make thinner, sleeker designs, closer to his blueprints then he could make before.  While he still used the typical, beefed up sentries and dispensers on the field to protect his team, off hours Lance continued to tinker with his fancy welding work. 

“Well ain’t that a hell of a thing,” Roscoe circled Lance’s latest endeavor.  It was a level 1 sentry that seemed light on its stabilizers.  “This one might actually hold up to battle, _and_ be fast to deploy!”

“That’s the idea.  Rekon I might take it out tomorrow,” Lance grinned back, wiping grease off his hands, “It’s not necessary for war machines to be beautiful, but I guess I’m a bit of an artist trapped in an engineer’s body,” He chuckled.  Not something he’d say to William but he felt safe around Roscoe.  The older engineer was loudly welding something in the corner of the shop out of ear shot.

“Engineering IS an art, Lance.” Roscoe said with resolve.

“True, true...jes this isn’t the sleekest of battlefields. No need for pomp ‘n’ circumstance.  And here I am still designing things that belong on some grand battlefield.”  He paused in thought for a moment, “I guess I wish some of mah designs could have seen somethin’ grand, like the World War.  All those lovely guns and planes.  I remember lookin’ at some’a them in the museum.”  He pet a hand idly over the rivets on his work. “So many amazing designs with such purpose.”

“I don’t think any of ya’ll designs are going to end up in any museums outta this place,” William broke Lance’s little fantasy, and their conversation, just barely glancing up from his corner of the shop. “The company is too secretive, to begin with.”

Lance was struck silent as he realized William actually had been able to hear them, _and_ his daydreams were being shot down.   He couldn’t back down now.  “Tch, well, with the money I’m getting from this job, I’ll be able to start mah own company.  We’ll make the prettiest damn weapons you ever did see,” He gave a bit of a mocking tone, chuckling and getting up to give an appropriate gesture. 

But it wasn’t a joke.  He wanted to be his own boss, produce his own designs.  Beautiful, sleek, deadly weapons, reminiscent of a more romantic era.  And with his own workshop, he could make other things too, useful inventions that could be in everyday homes.  And who knows, maybe something of his would catch on, and end up in a museum one day...

“Mmm humm you would,” William gave a face and went back to his work.  
  


As the group of engineers talked, unbeknownst to them they were being watched from the wooden rafters.    
  
  
Dominique was scribbling down this new information into his notes.  He smiled softly, it was both bittersweet and encouraging to hear other’s dreams and wants, for while his own dreams were diverted like a river with a bolder thrown into it, he took a strange pride to think how these men he cataloged might go on to achieve theirs. It was like watching a movie of characters.  You couldn't be a part of the action but you at least could watch and pretend you were.

 Only now, Domi felt like he had stepped through that silver screen and become one of them.  He could affect the story now, and had drive to do it. But what kind of role would he play?  Could he even take the pressure?

One thing he knew, he didn't want to be Frankenstein's monster...

Roscoe and William left for dinner.  Lance stayed behind, putting finishing touches on that special sentry, sparks reflecting in his goggles as he did small spot welds.  The tentaspy pet a finger over his slightly damp notepad, the locking plastic bag that kept it dry when he was underwater crinkling against the cardboard backing. 

He wondered what the new machine would look like in combat. It was so amazing to see what he did meant so much to the engineer’s labors.  He smiled despite himself, tentacles coiling around the rafters further. 

It was none too soon when Lance went to dinner. Domi could feel himself drying out, and his flask was about empty.  He’d lost all track of time.  He slinked out the back window and to the canal, slipping in with a happy sigh. 

However, he found himself drawn back to the base after none too long.  He had files to flesh out after all; Lance and Roscoe were both still relatively new members, but Dominique seemed to be spending all his time on the dirty blond Texan...

 

It was a cool night after the hot day.  The engineer opened his room window to the soft breeze, then locked the door to his small living quarters to prepare for bed.  He was not alone, as a watchful party was just outside the window, privy as the stout Texan unclipped his overalls, which were charred and dirty from the day’s work.  The garment fell to the curve of the man’s ass, exposing his stocky, muscular torso.  With a little help the overalls sloughed completely to the floor.  All that was left was a pair of reddish brown boxers.  The engineer groaned slightly as he stretched, flopping to the bed so he could kick off his work boots and clothes together.

Welding goggles were removed, revealing hazel eyes hiding underneath.  Dominique had seen them before but it was like he was taking real note of them for the first time.  Soon the engineer was completely naked, exposed to the fresh breeze from that window; it looked like it felt so good to his skin by the way he sighed and relaxed.  Lance then leaned over and pulled out his personal suitcase from under the bed.  He glanced at the door, then pulled off a hidden compartment panel in the lid when he seemed satisfied things were safe.  The tentaspy watched, entranced at the sudden secrecy, pen falling silent on his paper. 

Out of the compartment was pulled a pile of slightly dog-eared magazines.  The engineer leafed through them.  Dominique could catch some of the titles as the covers flashed by, “ONE:  The Homosexual viewpoint, January issue 1965.” ….“The Male figure review – 1968”….. “MANège, 1965” , which appeared to have Swedish or Danish writing on the cover.

While Dominique had seen plenty of homosexual fooling around on the bases, and some interesting developments between many different parties (Especially past Heavies and Medics, for some reason...), this was the first time he saw someone with gay literature.  Such kinds of magazines had not been around long to begin with, just starting in the past decade; Dominique recalled seeing some in boutiques while he was in London. 

Dominique was interested in ‘people’, so bodies of all kinds came with that as well.  He had no reservations if someone was female or male.  Though being sexually with one’s own gender was always more risqué, a sin to many, and even illegal in some places.  It was not something you wanted to flaunt about, it was not accepted. You kept it to yourself. 

For the Engineer to have such magazines, especially one that looked more intellectual and not just _nudie mags_ , meant he was serious about it, that he was most likely ONLY interested in men, and had known for some time.  Known, and gotten good at hiding it.  Dominique didn’t think he looked it, he didn’t act in a fashion that would make one think he was ‘that way’.  This was how he wanted it, no doubt.

Dominique recalled how the Engineer he was teammates with liked to masturbate while looking at car magazines.  Here was his replacement 6 years hence, doing the same to eloquent looking men in gay European circulars. 

Taking mental notes now, the tentaspy perched on the windowsill, suckers clutched up against the wooden siding.  Oh now, now he was truly a dirty voyeur.  He was not just taking notes for files.  He was quite interested, physically.  He bit his lip and kept watching, drawn in as the Texan fell to his back, arching softly against the mattress with a hand down his boxers. 

He gasped like he didn’t want anyone to hear.  “Ahhhnnnn,” He groaned in a hushed whisper, rolling his hips and tweaking over his right nipple, like he was pretending someone was there pleasuring him, “Y...yea...geezus fuck...”

As the Engineer was pleasuring himself Dominique soon found he was doing the same.  It wasn’t the first time he’d spied on team members and done this...he longed for physical attentions.  Besides being a sensual blooded, middle aged man, he also felt an extra twinge of need when his animal instilled hormones kicked in.  It surprised the tentaspy how strongly his urges were watching, hearing, smelling the stout little Texan.  It set his insides ablaze with arousal. 

 

He was so close, it’d be easy for a tentacle to reach out and touch him...snake around that thick erection and slick over him, slime mixing with precum...

 

Thankfully the Engineer didn’t hear Domi’s small animalistic cry of desperation as he squeezed his suckers around the length of his engorged erection, he was too busy groaning to himself as he twitched with the release of his own orgasm.

“Nnnngg...ahhh....”  Lance gasped to himself, falling limp and ignoring the cum on his chest hair.  He perked his ears up as he heard a noise outside, like a _thunk_ of something soft falling to the ground.  Could have been a possum, or any other wild creature, but with the heebie jeebies he was getting recently like someone was watching him, he didn’t take chances.  He quickly closed the blinds on his window and shut it to a locked slit.  It would block some of the cool air but it was worth the privacy as he slept.    

Out of sight, Dominique was gasping to dry sounding lungs as he copiously came, the smell and sounds of the little engineer still ringing in his nostrils and ears.  He writhed on the ground, a jumble of slimy tentacles and pinstripes, tensed hands gripping at the cold grass.  Goodness, that was excellent.  He had not had an orgasm quite like that in a long time.  He shakily got out his water flask and downed all he had left in it. 

It took him some minutes before he had energy to move again – but soon the tentaspy was back in the canal, catching his breath and purring contentedly.  He pushed off the concrete sides and dashed home to his favorite underwater den, where he curled up in a dead end pipeline lined with plant matter and torn fabrics.  He plotted a few more things through his mind before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance is secretly a steampunk ahead of his time. Meanwhile Domi is a peeping tom, shame on you. Though I'd be lying if I said no other spies did that too (psstt, they all do).


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engineer Lance gets a visit from the 'Red Spy'.

“Isn’t it a bit hot out to be doin’ that tonight?” The oldest engineer glanced at Lance as he was trotting out the door with a large toolbox.

Lance paused to talk to him. “I want to get this done; you know how it is when you are inspired, yea?” Light flashed off his goggles with a tilt of the head, coupled with an appropriate smirk of knowledgeable mischief.

William gave a ‘you’re crazy’ head shake, going back to his own work, though he couldn’t help but admire the younger man’s enthusiasm.

 

Lance set up outside alone, heating up the BLU metal he had been given to a hot red, and then bending it into the right shape before it cooled. He had a protective smock on over his coveralls, and thick gloves on both hands, to shield from sparks as he pounded and bent the hot metal. As William had warned, it was indeed a hot evening, and the Engineer was sweating under the brunt of it. He just wanted to get the idea realized; heat wouldn’t stop him from working when he was inspired. Sweat beaded on his bare skin, as he'd forgone wearing a shirt. One of his overall clasps popped as he worked and he had to pause to fix it among husky mumbled swearing.

 

He was concentrating so hard he did not even hear the de-cloaking of a Spy...

“Laborer,” A French accent spoke, making the industrious engineer glance up.

 

“Spah?” Lance blinked behind his dark goggles, giving a curious look to their team spy there leaning against a thin tree in all his RED pinstriped swagger. He hid his flustering of embarrassment as he has just fixed his overalls. Not like he was modest but the spies always gave him this voyeuristic vibe.  
  
The Engineer was annoyed to be disturbed while working, or perhaps it was more so that he was bitter from the lack of thanks for his careful fixing of the Spy’s disguise kit, “Fancy you actually givin’ audience in person, yea?” He said in a loaded fashion, but his tone was not snide, merely dismissive. He gave a few strong hits to the metal in front of him before it completely cooled.

The Spy chuckled, “Eet iz possible, oui.” The lithe man strolled closer, all the way around to the other side of the Engineer, giving the Texan a ‘being circled by a shark’ vibe, “I came _in person_ to thank you for fixing my disguise kit. Eet iz much appreciated.” He said it like he KNEW that was what the Texan was waiting for. He took out the kit for a moment for emphasis, twirling it in his fingers, “Good as new.”

The engineer, besides a look of disbelief, seemed to light up. His work actually being recognized, who doesn’t like that? He was proud of his skills; he gave a prideful smile and straightened up, “Much obliged, good to see you have some kind’a manners.”

“Do you really theenk so low of me, monsieur?” He gave that feigned voice only a Spy can do with the proper level of snarky. “Ze BLU Spy ruins your machines, but I would never do zhat, don’t hate all us Spies, oui?”

The Spy was being awfully friendly, thought Lance. It was suspicious. What kind of interest would a man like him have with a stout, grease-monkey Texan, other than to manipulate into another favor? Lance was nobodies fool.

The engineer gave a sideways eye as the RED Spy casually pulled a cigarette from his kit. He put it to his thin, wide mouth, but stopped when he went to light it, “You don’t smoke, correct?” he asked, the fag hanging from his moist inner lip as he talked, “Your colleague does but I ‘ave not seen you doing so ever.” As he referred to William.

“Did when I was younger, but not any more,” Lance replied simply, making a face like he’d appreciate it if the Spy DIDN’T smoke right in his vicinity, especially when he was working.

The Spy left the un-lit cig, “Well, I’ll be the gentleman I am and respect your workspace while I am ‘ere,” He took it from his mouth, dangling it in his fingers in habit and gesturing with it.

“You practically chain smoke those things,” The Engineer chuckled like he couldn’t believe the man could go without his fix for five minutes.  He also was thinking about how terrible he looked at breakfast a few days ago, but he must be better now as he seemed fine, thankfully.  Laid off the alcohol, he thought.  He wanted to ask but that would be too much prying. Spies were unpredictable and smart, Lance has learned, and this was the first time their own spy ever talked to him one on one.  Just play it cool.  

 

He put the piece of metal back into the furnace and watched it redden as it heated once more. “Now Spah, while I don’t dislike yer company, you must be here for a reason, and I don’t like you pussy footin’ round the subject, so what else kin’ I do for ya?” While he was internally flattered Spy would think he was favorable company (and wished that was the case), he knew that couldn’t be true for a backstabber like him. And he didn’t like being buttered up into doing something.

 

The Spy looked hurt, being him it sounded like a feigned sort of sarcastic ‘hurt’ as he said playfully, “Monsieur! Might eet be possible I just wanted to say thank you?” He leaned in to look closer as the hot metal piece was taken from the furnace, glowing orange and white, “Also, I’m curious about this...theeng.” He gestured to the dispenser taking shape off to the side. “I saw your new sentry on ze field ze other day. Smaller, lighter, faster to deploy. You ought to push ze front lines weeth such a theeng. Very impressive.” He went to take a drag off his cigarette, but grumbled when he remembered he’d not lit it to be polite.

 

At least this is mostly how the RED Spy would act, thought Domi - Who was satisfactorily playing the role.

 

It was funny to be pretending to be a nicotine addict again. He used to chain smoke just as much as the current RED Spy, but having gills stopped that habit dead in its tracks.

While he was playing the guise of the RED Spy, he was speaking from his own mind when it came to what he was saying. It was him, in the body of the RED. He was using him like a second skin to talk to the Engineer. He knew it was impossible to show him how he really looked...

“Jes a new dispenser model. Should be lighter to carry alongside my smaller sentry.” Lance smirked back, unbelieving the Spy even took interest in his original alterations, or sentries beyond sapping and destroying them.

Dominique wanted to snake his tentacles all over that fancy dispenser, feel it inside and out, explore its curves and rivets. He bit his lip, realizing that was more so what he wanted to do to its creator.

He consciously coiled a tentacle around his over appendages, like tying them down with a noose. They were nestled in nicely against himself, keeping within the disguise cloak. He was drying quickly in the heat, though with the sun set the air was cooling steadily and slowing that process. The arid heat was most a problem with his breathing. He felt his chest going dry, his lungs needy for moisture. The feeling was creeping up his throat like an unstoppable advancing wave of dread.

He was making use of the fact the real RED Spy was in his room drinking wine and fapping in the mirror with a disguise of the RED Sniper on himself. Best to make use of this time.

“Well I theenk eet is very inspired,” The RED Spy sauntered over, leaning in a teasing manner onto the end of the big metal workbench, very much in the man’s personal space, “I’ve destroyed many a BLU machine, and this eez nothing like anything I’ve seen.”

The Engineer looked a little worried. Or was it intimidated surprise? He gave a shove to the Spy’s shoulder with his wrench, “Yer in mah way Spah, you’re going to get hot metal in your mouth keeping your mug there.”

The Spy chuckled in amusement, giving the Texan his space, then gasped like he remembered something, “Ah! Well, eef you are so eager to do something else for me, I DO ‘ave something you could look at...”

It had dawned on Domi his Cloak and Dagger needed fixing too. He shouldn’t pass up this opportunity.

The RED Spy unhooked a watch from his wrist, giving it to the Engineer, who held out a thickly gloved hand. The Spy pet his finger tips over the leather-protected palm, lingering as he handed over the equipment, “Eet needs a tune up, the cloak has been on ze fritz, S'il vous plait?”

The Texan felt a rush of heat, and it wasn’t just the sweat from the heavy protection gear he was wearing. He put the spy watch in a pocket, “It...it shouldn’t be a problem,”

“Merci, much appreciated.” The RED Spy grinned back, pulling away, not before closing the larger fingers of the Texan around the spy gear with another purposeful touch.

 

In reality, Domi was pulling away so hastily as some tentacles were creeping their suckers up the edge of the table and inches from latching onto Lance. He was having far too much fun with himself getting to flirt with the little Engineer, TOUCHING another living being with suave appeal. He felt like his old self again in a fleeting moment. He mustn’t lose himself in the moment and blow his cover.

 

“* _Cough cough!_ *”

“Spah?” Lance stared with concern as the other man was leaving, hearing the dry cough.

The taller man waved a hand dismissively, “Ze dust is just irritating my already needy lungs,” He hoarsely said, flicking his lighter open.  
  
"Tch I think it's those cigarettes givin' you that cough Spah!" Lance called back.  
  
“Heheh," The Spy laughed, "I will be back for my gear tomorrow evening Laborer.” Being it was Friday night they’d have off tomorrow. The Spy, even without a cloaking device, seemed to vanish quickly all the same.

 

Once he was alone the Engineer stood a little dumbfounded for a moment. He replayed over in his mind the Spy’s behavior. Certainly he couldn’t deny it felt like that Frenchie was _flirting_ with him.

He was a mixture of suspicious and - aroused.  What if he WAS flirting with him? What if he WAS actually interested? What if –

Lance paled and nearly dropped his wrench. That Spy could get into anything and go anywhere. What if he’d seen his - _secret_ belongings? OF course, that would explain how he was playing things up with him, using him for favors because he knew he’d fall for his flirting and could blackmail him if he refused. Lance did NOT want just anyone knowing, especially a team of crazy mercenaries he was stuck with for a year long contract. Lord knows a bunch like that wouldn’t exactly be approving of a ‘pansy’ in their mix...

Lance did not think low of himself for his desires, he just knew the harsh reality of what society thought of them. Laying low meant being safe, and accepted. He didn’t dwell on it too much, that was how things were. When he got off this job he could go back and find like kind and the usual old haunts, lord knows he missed it like how the men probably missed havin’ ladies around. They were all in the same boat really.

He thought about if he should confront the Spy about it when he saw him next, or just play dumb.  
  
Maybe he knew nothing and WAS just being the eccentric flirt he was.

He decided he would just stay quiet about it to the Spy, and be ‘normal’.  Normal as one was in a place like this.

.......

“Nnngggg,” The RED Spy gave a groan as he got some water from the tap in the kitchen. Thank God it was the weekend, it didn’t matter how hung over he was. He looked somewhat disheveled with only a single sleeve garter on, a crooked tie, and a half burnt down, bent cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Don’t make me bring up that beauty rest thing again,” The Sniper said as he stole the coffee pot, pouring the rest into his white mug. With it being the weekend he could drink the usual stuff. Only decaf for him while working. He made sure his kukuri was at the ready as he leaned on the counter next to the Spy, considering how the Spy acted LAST time.

The Spy flashed the Australian a wild ‘ _fuck you’_ look, made even more apparent by the dark circles around his eyes. “Careful, I might get bored of stabbing ze BLU Sniper and go after you instead.” He was pissed off enough from not sleeping properly since _the_ _incident in bed_. He’d hoped the wine and self gratification would help, but it only did so much. He felt like he was going crazy.

“I’m sure that’ll go over real jolly with RED. Jes make sure you’re doin your job mate,” The man gave a point to him like he was a fucking mess and didn’t look like he was in any shape to do the kind of espionage they excepted of him.

The Spy quieted down, softening like he approved of the Sniper showing some kind of concern for his state of being. “I can take care of myself,” He grumbled and turned his hooked nose up, “Eet’s you all I am concerned for, ignorant of what eez going on around ‘ere,” He rubbed a hand over those hidden hickey marks on his torso. They were just about gone thankfully.

“And what might that be?” Suddenly there was a Texan accent in the mix, as the shorter American was in the kitchen doorway wearing a towel like he just came from the showers. He’d overheard the talk from the hall and came in to investigate.

He felt a jolt when the RED Spy looked at him - the worry from last night about blackmail coming his way was creating a tension inside him. But his eyes kept locked confidently to his comrades with no sign of apprehension outwardly. _Stay cool._

“I will inform you all when I get more intel,” The Spy glanced dismissively between the two men. With their height difference was quite an acrobatic eye move. He intended to keep his team on top of things, least when he had something real to report. He'd find that thing that attacked him. He’d find it and prove it if it was the last thing he'd do. He wasn't fucking crazy.

The Frenchman took up his glass of water and moved his cig to his fingers, “One theeng I do know, there eez a supply train coming today. Keep an eye out for eet. I theenk we are getting a transfer, or perhaps an extra team member altogether.” He made to leave, brushing past the Engineer on his way out.

“See ya later Spah,” The Texan stated in goodbye, while he meant it in a manner of ‘I’ll have your watch ready later,’ the Spy merely gave a tired smirk and a nod, not catching the tone.

“Spy givin’ a shit?” Sniper muttered sipping his coffee and making his own leave for his nest, “Now there’s somethin’ to be suspicious ‘bout.”

“It’s his job to aid this team whether he likes it or not,” Lance smirked. “But really he ain’t such a bad fella.” _... I hope_

“Since when did Engineer's make friends with spahs?” The Sniper sipped his coffee.  
  
Lance bit his lip and shrugged, not sure of how to answer. "Far stranger things 'round here." He finally replied with a chuckle, and put a new pot of coffee on to percolate.  


After a quick breakfast, Lance got to his workshop to get that Cloak and Dagger watch fixed up. He wanted to stay on the Spy’s good side, not to mention wishful thinking that he’d appreciate this second favor as a friendly gesture.

The Spy didn’t seem so terrible if you could believe anything he did as somewhat genuine, and not just done for manipulation. Lance had only been there a few months, and while he’d not expected to make ‘friends’ among a bunch of mercenaries, having people you could get along with was always nice. At least he was friendly with the other Engineer, Roscoe, and the Heavy, Boleslav.

The watch was even more intricate than the Disguise kit. Being the tech was packed into an even smaller space. The technology the team provided for the spies was highly advanced. Lance had never heard of anything like it before. He took mental notes on things to add to his own designs by looking at the small devices.

Besides being water damaged and an older model, the watch wasn’t in as terrible shape as the Disguise kit. The engineer got it done within a few hours and then spent the rest of the evening at his workbench doodling up small designs of his own based off the watch.

 

...

 

Dominique figured the watch wouldn't be done till least noon so he slept in. He uncurled from his underwater nest eventually as his unpleasantly growling stomach reminded him he had to get his ass up. He flopped out of the large, padded pipe to the waterway floor like a pile of wet spaghetti, pausing to wake up more as his tentacles coiled lazily. Moments later the form of Domi's upper half stretched up out of the mass in a wide, fangy yawn. He smoothed his hair back and rolled his shoulders to get out the stiffness. He had no need to put on his balaclava until later.  
  
He daydreamed about having that cloaking watch back as he hunted in the waterways outside the fences. How amazing it would be to have. First the working disguise kit, now this! He grinned uncontrollably to himself as he ensnared a catfish in his suckers.  
  
He couldn't find any large fish that day so he tracked down a juicy jackrabbit. He sat hidden in the cattails on the small river's muddy bank and skillfully skinned the animal with his balisong while he stewed over more plans. Maybe now he could find a way off on the trains. Maybe he could stockpile water jugs? With a working cloak he could stay hidden perfectly. He weighed the stresses and unknowns of going to new places, and the risks of being found by BLU or RED security on the trains. A frustrating series of steps his mind danced through many times before.  
  
He sighed and tossed the gut of the rabbit to the side, saving the liver and heart of course. He certainly was not going anywhere just yet. He was becoming rather invested in the goings on of the RED team. He knew this might get him killed. He snorted at himself. Better to go out with a bang at this point. He was already 'dead' anyway.  
  
He had been so distracted with thoughts of his new exploits around RED base that he’d not caught wind of the intel of the supply train. He suddenly heard the distant horn of an approaching train as he was picking meat off the jackrabbit's bones. He perked up, face poking out of the tall grass. He saw the smoke from the steam train billowing in the far distance. Would be about 30 minutes. It reminded him he should go check on Lance.  
  
_‘A Supply train! I’ve never missed one before...how did I not hear of it?’_ He fussed to himself, angry with his incompetence. He always liked to be fully informed.

 _‘Well, while it’s nice to be on top of shipments...doesn’t getting to talk to that RED engineer top your priorities list today?’_ he told himself. He DID feel naked without his cloaking watch. He wanted it back as soon as possible. He finished up and slipped back into the water to go get dressed. The cloak may change his appearance but if he was brushed against having on clothes was best to keep the illusion much as possible.

 

...  
  
  
Lance was deep in thought, drawing up design ideas on a fresh piece of blueprint paper with a curved ruler. He did not hear the approaching Spy. Though he also did not know the spy in reality had no shoes to create sound...

“Peek-a-boo.” A low voice calmly rasped into the Engineer’s ear from behind.

“GEEZUS!” The shorter man startled, nearly falling off his stool and dropping his drafting pencil.

After a hearty laugh and a few snorts, the RED Spy smiled at the miffed Engineer, “Oh...eet was too good to resist, you were so deep in thought!” The fine leather glove pet over the drawings there on the drafting table, “New designs?”

“Y...yea.” The man adjusted his goggles, then put them up to his forehead, “I’m gonna start calling you ‘spook’ like Snipes does at this rate.”

“Oh Mon ami,” The Spy shook his head, still petting over the designs slowly and purposefully. He seemed quite interested in them.

Lance eyed the Spy’s hands silently. His fingers were so lithe and moved in a way that entranced him. He thought about how the other day he had said his new sentry designs were 'inspired'. Seemed actually rather interested in the artistry of them. He eventually spoke up, "You like my designs, eh?" He smiled carefully.  
  
"I already told you they were inspired, non? I just love to see someone really thinking out of ze box. You are so refreshing." He smiled back, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.     
  
The engineer was bashful and started pointing out his sketches with enthusiasm, "These are for watch tech based on the spy equipment, only with added features. I was also curious if I could fit the tech of a disguise kit into a more watch design. Maybe like an old fashioned pocket watch?"  
  
"I really like ze filigree," The Spy nodded. "Promise you will let me test run if you make one of these?" He chuckled, but it was obvious he really liked what he saw. Even with his confident, teasing tone, he was not patronizing him.  
  
"Ahh gosh these would take a while to fabricate, I don't think I'd have time..." He sighed, thinking how he was having such a nice conversation with him. He'd looked so tired at breakfast. He then said something bolder, "Hey you feelin' ok by the way? You looked out of it at breakfast."  
  
"Oh?" Domi's trained mind churned for an appropriate answer. He'd need to keep a closer eye on the RED Spy...maybe this had to do with their altercation. Dammit. He was genuinely happy though to see the Engineer's concern. It was just so....nice.  
  
"Ahh heh, just not sleeping well. Nothing to worry about." The Spy replied waving a hand. "I am not a morning person at all. 'ow sweet of you to ask _Petit_." He gently flirted and gave a pat, that was more of a _pet_ , to the man's upper back.  "I also am not very... _affectionate_ in front of other eyes, oui?"  
  
Lance went a bit stiff with uncertainty as that really, really seemed like a pass at him. He coughed and quickly said, "Y-Your watch is done; I assume that’s what yer here for.” He picked the small device out of his front overall pocket.  
  
The Spy’s face lit up, and he took his belongings back thankfully, “Merci beaucoup!” He affixed the watch back on his wrist and admired how new it looked, “You do such lovely work, like _un artiste_ , truly. Eet looks good as new!”

Lance grinned with satisfaction, but the Spy saying those things in that lovely accent, rolling off his tongue and being so complimentary, it was more than just any usual flattery. Before he could reply the Spy disappeared in a shimmer of air.  
  
“Spah?” He blinked, reaching out and feeling nothing, “Tch, running off just like that?” He grumbled and looked about.

“Non, just testing your repairs,” The smooth voice replied, right behind him. The Engineer whirled around, arm bumping into the invisible man making him shimmer for a moment then disappear again. “Damn spook!” He laughed; reaching out like it was a game. “You forget I’m used to spy checking!”

“But I’m no enemy,” The French accent crooned, invisible hands touching to the stout man’s cheeks, sliding to his shoulders and firmly making him turn around on his stool. The Texan calmed down like an obedient dog, frozen as he felt those long, thin fingers caressing a bit more than friendly against his neck and then down to his collar bones.  
  
_‘Oh god what are you doing?’_ Dominique hissed inside his head. From the increased heart rate of the Engineer and his deepening breath it was obvious he was nervous but clearly enjoying this, so Domi kept going. He just wanted to touch, just a little. He had to be careful, if the Engineer paid too much attention he might feel his webbing or claws.  
  
All Lance could do was lean back his head to the progressively more intimate, invisible fingers. His mouth parted for shuddering increasingly husky breaths. He felt soft lips against his stubbly jawline, kissing so fucking slowly and purposefully. A low moan rolled right out of him, he couldn't stop it if he tried.  
  
  
When he felt cool fingers dance over his nipples, he whispered apprehensively, “...y-you won’t tell the men...will ya?”

“Tell them what monsieur?” The Spy muttered back against his cheek, like he had no idea what he was talking about. It was a coy tone, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and had no intention to make it public.

The Engineer uttered another groan, god he was so good with his hands. It didn’t help he couldn’t see what he was doing, just an occasional shimmer where the cloak faulted under a firmer touch. He basically had his eyes half closed anyway. Seemingly by ‘magic’, an overall clasp was removed, giving the Spy better access to that broad, fuzzy chest.

It was taking lot of willpower to keep his tentacles off the Engineer’s flesh. They were creeping up the stool like an unstoppable force. Inches, then just centimeters away from the man’s legs, the nimble tips coiling firmly around the stool legs to halt their progress. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

Domi furrowed up his brow, arms wrapping around Lance’s neck and shoulders. He buried his face into his neck to take a deep inhale of his scent. He could SMELL his arousal like a cologne. The tentaspy muttered a low growled purr, a sound full of longing. He felt himself slip into a daze of pheromones and he might have totally lost it if it wasn't for -

 

Like an alarm bell waking up the men from a dream, the supply train whistled loudly as it came into the base’s platform. Both men jerked up, the Spy especially jumping back, and tentacles doing the same not a moment too soon.

“Shit, the train! Scared me half to death! I even knew it was comin’ today...” Lance laughed a little, heart pounding in his chest. The shock wore off as he looked around for the Spy. “Spah?” He said tentatively.

“I must be off _petit_ ,” The voice said from thin air. Lance did not miss that French pet name, which he had been using on him multiple times. He swallowed thickly and kept listening. “Thank you again... _à plus_.” the voice said, and then the Spy was gone.

 

Lance was left in a haze. He fixed his overalls, and smoothed over the velveteen hair of his scalp. “D...damn Spahs,” He muttered loosely, but his flesh was still tingling. He tried to not let his thoughts wander or that rush of heat in his groin might get worse. God, he wanted do try that again, and not be interrupted. As much as he liked this unexpected development, he just couldn’t be at ease in his mind. He was worried he’d tell the team. Then everyone would know he was a sissy faggot, and he'd never be one of the guys again. Then would come the dirty looks, the slurs, the unfriendly bumps in the hall, and even worse...  
  
He stuffed down his anxiety and sighed deeply. “Tch,” The engineer huffed and rolled up his plans, “Jes keep yer head boy, everythin’ will be okay,” He muttered to himself as he ran off to help unload the train. It was customary for everyone to come and help. _‘You’re not a kid anymore, don’t act like a damn coward. You kin' take care of yourself now.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the fic is written I've just been too busy to edit it over, I am sorry! I have been amazed for all the kudos this has been getting as I thought most of the TF2 community had read the original version back on TF2chan already. If you are a new reader, hello and thanks! I love to hear from you. I'll keep plugging away at this to get it nicely archived here on AO3. :) Also to improve it, I intend to fix a lot of plot things later on to make the ending go a bit better (if you have read what was released before).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With fully working gear Domi is now able to move around the bases easier then ever before. He continues his interactions with the Engineer, the little Texan taking his full attentions. What starts as teasing and a want for companionship starts to quickly turn into something more...

 

The RED Spy....was becoming a nuisance.

 

He had been poking his nose about the fences, stalking suspiciously past the canals, and looking at everyone with a sideways eye, when he barely even knew what he was LOOKING for.  He hadn’t thought it had just been a dream as the tentaspy had hoped with the chance encounter. He was haunted by the event. Domi stewed with frustration and cursed himself for his carelessness.

 

It was making it hard for Dominique to sneak into RED after hours, especially if he was acting so different from the RED Spy himself. At least he'd told Lance he 'wasn't too affectionate around others' to discourage him from engaging the real RED Spy, who avoided everyone else like the plague anyway. And to disguise as someone else, the real RED Spy might take notice being on high alert.  
  
At least he had fully working equipment now. His confidence was high and he was able to move about with the most amazing stealth and ease. He was a fearsome thing to anyone who might be considered an enemy.

 

Domi had nothing personal against the RED Spy, but with how the RED Spy was poking about he might have to worry about having such an enemy.  
  
...

 

Lance was fresh out of the shower after a hot day on the field. His mind buzzed as he got dressed in the locker room. That RED Spy was following him around closer and closer, like a terrible tease. If the Spy wanted him, why didn’t he just _take_ him? Man like him must be used to doing that, getting anyone he wanted. Was he just teasing and didn't intend to do more then what he had been doing? Did he want something _else_? Or was he actually _courting_ him?  
  
They had been having fairly nice interactions the last few days. Short interactions but...nice. Not just teasing either. Snarky and smirking as the Spy was he started bringing up stuff like favorite books, foods, gossip about the other team members and the territory war. Small talk. Like he really enjoyed his company.  
  
No, couldn't be. That was just Lance's fanciful, wishful thinking. He was trying to just let this whole thing roll as it came while staying on guard to protect his secret from the team. Maybe if he was lucky they would at least have sex, that's about the most he expected out of all this realistically. He had been daydreaming about it ever since that day in the workshop. But after four days of random sultry looks and appearing out of nowhere out back, on the field, and in the workshop...  
  
He grunted to himself and turned while pulling his overall straps up. What used to be a empty bench a moment ago, suddenly was a half naked RED Spy lounging.

 

“GEEZUS!” Lance gasped, fumbling his overalls that he was _trying_ to put on.

“OH, ‘ello _Petit_ ,” The Spy crooned like nothing was unusual, and that he liked the view.

“Spah, y...ya don’t have’ta sneak up on me to git my attention.” Lance gave him a face as he put on his clothes properly.

“But you love eet,” The Spy leaned his head on his hand.

“Do I?” Lance chuckled, biting his lip as he closed his locker.

“I would believe so,” The Spy had a Cheshire grin as he cloaked and vanished in a shimmer of air.

“I see the cloaking device is working jes’ fine!”

“Oui, indeed.” The disembodied voice of the Spy replied in coy affection, “I’ll see you later, mon cher...”

 _‘See me later?'_ Lance narrowed his eyes in thought with a smirk. _'Oh now he’s just making me paranoid.'_

 

Domi listened until the engineer left the locker room and took the opportunity to re-moisten himself and prep mentally for what he was going to try to do. However, as he was finishing up making use of the RED showers the sounds of Italian leather shoes came down the hallway.

It was the _real_ RED Spy. The tentaspy cloaked and crept into the hallway low on his tentacles to confirm, ‘ _Merde_!’ he hissed to himself, appendages curling in displeasure. Thankfully Lance was not in the hall, he must have got to his room or the workshop before the Spy came through. Most likely cleaning up his blueprints before bed.

 

‘ _No, you WON’T be messing things up!_ ’ Domi narrowed his eyes, invisible and watching. He’d waited and mentally prepped for this for too long. Something primal and impulsive snapped in him. His heart rate jumped and he felt his vision hyper focus.  

 

**_COMPETITION._ **

The voice hissed.

**_HE’LL TRY TO STEAL YOUR MATE._ **

 

The RED Spy didn’t even know what hit him. Dominique was a silent killer, dropping onto the Spy from above like a spider. Tentacles quick as lightening wrapped and restrained him, muffling his voice like a gag.  Domi pulled the RED’s head to the side to expose his neck. The Spy struggled like a fly, eyes going wide as he recognized - the monster from his 'dream'! A swift bite, that was all it took. A strong dose of paralyzing venom stopped the struggling and knocked the Spy out cold.

“Hello?” Lance glanced out into the hall.

But it was empty.

“Lance?” Roscoe called over; William barely looked up from his desk.

“Thought I heard something...” Lance mumbled and then ducked his head back in.

 

...

 

“ _Fais de beaux rêves_ ,” Domi hissed with a predatory smile. He gave the half naked, unconscious Spy a kiss on the forehead and laid him down in his room. _'I’m just borrowing these...'_ he thought as he adjusted the red suit on his torso, and made sure the balaclava was straight before leaving the room.

Lance finished cleaning up his blueprints and turned in for the night. He _thought_ he was alone in his room as he was undressing, but he was getting wiser to the RED Spy now, especially after what he said earlier. He felt prickles up his spine like he was being watched, and looked around.

“Spah, I know yer there.” He called out playfully.

A cloak shimmered into view. The RED Spy was there leaning on his dresser.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were stalkin' me,” The Texan gave a sideways glance as he removed the grease-stained overalls. Spy knew his secret and seemed of like kind; best to try and go with it, see where it went. The Spy sure was pushing hard enough.   It was all in or fold, Lance thought. _‘I never was too good at Texas Hold 'Em anyway.'_

The RED Spy’s face softened, surprising the Engineer, "Heh well...more like courting you, _Petit_..." He glanced to the side, as if unsure of what he expected in response.  
  
Lance felt heat flush to his face immediately. This was not the response he was expecting. He sounded sincere enough, much as he doesn't believe it. He grumbled out a cough as he choked on words. But before he could speak the Spy did again,  
  
  
“I did not want to rush you...”  
  


“Rush me?” The engineer took a seat on the side of his bed, “You kin’ ‘rush me’ some more if you really want...” He gave a look that was less than innocent.  
  
  
That was more than an open invitation to Dominique.  
  


Domi came in for the kill, only his prey wasn't for eating, or running scared.  
  
  
"Ahh!" Lance gasped in happy surprise at how the Spy came up to him like a force of nature. The taller man leaned over him in a firm kiss, a hand beside him creaking into the bed and the other grasping behind his head. Soon as the initial shock was over, he was kissing right back into to those skilled lips, their mouths opening wide and their motions firm and needy. Lance's arms buckled and he soon had his back to the bed.    

Only when they had a breather did Domi really have a chance to allow it all to sink in, “ _Magnifique_ ,” He rolled off his talented French tongue in a low groan, and licked his lips like a cat who got the crème. “Très magnifique,” He echoed nuzzling into Lance’s face and neck.

“Geezus, you’re some kisser,” Lance caught his breath and propped himself up on his elbows as the Spy nibbled his neck. For more support he grasped around the Spy’s red suit, ‘ _He smells like cigarettes and cheap wine_ ,’ Lance thought, smelling his clothes, but it was strange because he didn’t taste any hint of what one would attest to a smoker’s mouth or a drinker’s lips. He tasted musky and damp. Whatever it was, he wanted more of it.

Domi was wrapping his tentacles around themselves in tight coils, making two ‘legs’ of sorts that he was using to support his weight over the Engineer while at the same time keep them busy and discourage wandering. This also helped them hide in the cloak even this close and touching the bed. However, it wouldn’t stop the other from feeling their texture or suckers if he touched them.

“Now, let me do all ze work, oui?” The RED Spy pushed Lance back to the bed.

Even with all his mental preparation, Domi knew his tentacles would wander. This could end badly. He could ruin everything he'd done. If he could at least keep them OFF Lance, then he could keep the illusion going. But any deviation from the cloak, they would flicker and be highly noticeable. However, he’d planned something to get around that.

He put on a little show, unbuttoning his coat, his vest, loosening his tie. The engineer tried not to stare too slack jawed, but goodness, he had a way about him - so sophisticated, such a gentleman. So much in line with Lance's fantasies. How he used his hands, the way the pinstriped jacket was shrugged from his shoulders. Everything came off with care except his pants and mask that seemed to perfectly hug the man’s hooked nose and sharp cheekbones. God there was something about that damn mask.

“MRMPH!” Lance’s staring gaze was smacked with the man’s vest and shirt. When his vision was cleared, the Spy was right there, with his loose tie.

“Ze show is over Mon Cheri,” The Frenchman smiled with mischievous playfulness. Lance glanced down at the Spy’s lithe body, but not moments after the tie was being put around his head like a blindfold.

“Hey!” The Texan yelped and chuckled. He reached out and grabbed the spy at the hips, dangerously close to his tentacled half for Domi. just under his gills. ‘ _Too close!’_ Domi hissed to himself. He took the Engineer’s hands and kissed them in a tender but dominant way, “I thought I told you to let me do ze work...?”

“Not fair you kin’ touch and I can’t,” Lance tilted his head. He was a bit nervous being made vulnerable to the Spy, but that also made it kind of exciting _. 'He’s on your team, he won’t HURT you...and besides with respawn active you can't die anyway, you really got nothing to be afraid of. Just relax and go with the flow. He seems to genuinely want you...’_

“Oui, eet’s not...but - please indulge me for now. Eet will be fun,” He made it like a game. Lance just assumed he was being kinky.

So the engineer laid back, arms above his head, and put himself at the Spy’s mercy.

 

It was just too perfect.

The engineer laid out before him, hands above his head, like a delicious meal waiting to be devoured.

 

“Mmmm,” Dominique hummed; petting a hand over the bulge in the engineer's boxers. He leaned in and eagerly licked over his chest. As amazing as this was, and as much as he was enjoying it - it was hard to fully appreciate the moment. He was spending so much time focusing on his tentacles - keeping them coiled and away from Lance. He tried to put as much concentration into his pleasuring as possible. He wanted his touch to be as satisfying and luxurious as it always was. He didn’t want Lance to get a shell of his former glory. He wanted him to feel good, to _feel_ how much he had been longing for him.

“Ahhh!” The Engineer writhed, grinding his hips under the RED Spy’s talented fingers and mouth. The man’s touch was cool and smooth. He rolled out husky moans, breathing reduced to shuddering. Fuck it felt so good.

“So ‘ard so quickly,” Domi crooned in the RED Spy’s voice, though it was all his tone, all his words and manner of saying it. The RED was just a façade.

“You seem t’ have that effect on me,” Lance laughed back. He didn’t think that blindfold would do much for him, but damn he was rather enjoying it now. He was a visual person, but focusing only on the touch, and not knowing WHERE it was coming or going, made it tingle that much more.

Domi pushed down the boxers, just enough to let his erection free. It was a good reflection of its owner. Stocky, which made the uncut cock seem shorter than it was. He dove right in and took him in hand, licked down the stout man’s fuzzy chest and right onto his cock. He tried to keep his fingers together to mask the feeling of his webbing, which folded to the outside of his fingers to hide it even more.

“Geezus fuck!” Lance bucked, gripping the bed sheets and throwing his head back. He REALLY wished he could see now. The image in his mind of the Spy sucking him off was amazing. His imagination ran away with him as he was orally pleasured, trying to picture every lick and hot breath visually.

If only he could really see - there was a confused cloak shimmering all around, the free tentacles not acting as ‘legs’ gripping to every surface in the room. Domi was constantly glancing and checking. He also was very cautious of his teeth, making sure to curl his lips over them. The inner lips of his mouth were strong enough to not be damaged by their sharpness. He used his tongue over the Engineer’s penis head, further cushioning and protecting from his fangs.

Not only that, his throat was going dry. He took one last lick of the head of Lance’s thick erection, then discreetly grabbed for his water flask. Lance heard it, the sound of the metal lid being unscrewed, and the liquid sloshing inside. Because he didn’t feel any sting of alcohol on his penis when the moist mouth returned, he assumed it was just water? _'Well lord knows my mouth could sometimes get a little dry during this kind of thing,’_ Lance thought back to the last time he was doing this. It’d been years sadly.

Domi gave a guttural groan into the Engineer’s spongy corona, which hid the pained _churrrr_ in his throat. A sound of want for MORE. He wanted so badly to let loose. He gripped his hands into the man’s legs and then around the sides to cup under his ass, which pressed his chest through Lance’s legs like a wedge, widening their spread. Domi nuzzled and moaned and licked at every inch of his blonde-fuzzed thighs he could get to.

‘ _more...more contact...mon dieu...please...’_. His gills fluttered at the air with his deeper breaths, and tentacle tips curled like toes.

He sucked harder, and used his hands like a musician over an instrument, _‘oh you are making some sweet music for me indeed...’_ Dominique thought, using the tip of his tongue in quick little flicks at Lance’s cock head in time with his hand motions.

This elicited even louder groaning, which was suddenly muffled by the Spy’s mouth over his. He’d jumped up, pressing their chests together. Lance could taste his own salty flavor on the man’s lips. His hands flew up and gripped around Spy’s shoulder blades and head as he mouthed back wetly.

The Spy’s tongue delved around in his mouth, like a violating force – but Lance welcomed the heated, unbridled condition. He didn’t even protest as his boxers were removed, leaving him fully exposed. Domi was using his dominant position further, blocking Lance from squirming his tongue into his mouth. He didn’t want risk any major teeth contact.

Dominique was getting sloppy as they got this frenzied. He felt himself slipping, getting lost in the pleasure...god it was so good. He’d been so long without - this was pure ecstasy. Lance just barely brushed past the frills on his arms and back, they went unnoticed in the passion of the moment. The tentacles supporting his weight as he ‘stood’ at the bed-side leaned over the Engineer bumped into his legs as Domi straddled him. They were passed off as his pants covered legs - the drying backs of his tentacles were becoming softly leathery. ‘ _He’s blindfolded...he won’t know..._ ’ Domi kept telling himself. Lance was making such amazing noises. He was enjoying it all so much, enjoying _him_.

It was then he got even bolder.

His erect penis had made itself known some time ago, Domi was keeping it busy around the large suckers of his under mantle, basically pleasuring himself. He swallowed, then slowly, consciously snaked it out, and brought it up between his ‘legs’, which was now just a horrible twisted mess of tentacles. He tried not to think about how fake this all was; what an indulgent and deceptive fantasy he was playing. He tried to praise his cleverness and control thus far.  
  
No, it was not all fake...his feelings, his intentions, were real. Just the physical was the deception.

His webbed hand easily enveloped both of them, their two cocks pressing together. He took a deep breath, calming himself and slowing things down a little. The Spy proceeded to jerk both of them off, bucking his ‘hips’ with the other in purposeful, firm motions.

When Lance felt that heat and pulsing, he knew what the Spy was up to, “Spah, fuck, that feels amazin’...” He groaned, back arching and moving with him. Little did Domi know, Lance really enjoyed frotting. It was basically his favorite kind of sex. He wished he could see the man’s erection for himself, but it didn't dampen his physical pleasure and peaking arousal from how turned on he was.  

Their pace quickened, gasps becoming deeper and motions more frenzied. As pleasure overtook them both they flew off the handle, moaning and writhing, sloppily kissing, nipping at necks, foreheads pressing into one another, anywhere they could reach. Lance convulsed and came first, hard and sudden. Domi let his body relax just long enough, his cries a bit animalistic as he hit a searing high that was accompanied by his own release a minute later. He collapsed on top of the Texan, breathing hoarsely, his whole body limp.

Lance was breathing hard too. A husky laugh escaped his throat. _‘Geezus was that you that came so much? I can feel it dripping down my side...’_ Lance thought.

Domi stayed like that as long as he dared, exhausted and sated, their two bodies dappled with sweat and the engineer acting as his mattress.

With both hands on the engineer’s jaw, Dominique gave some parting, passionate kisses to the shorter man, before he smoothly slipped backwards. His body needed water; he could feel his tentacles becoming harder to move, weak and slow. After too long he’d become too dry to be able to walk on his limbs and escape.

Lance got a feeling of dread as he felt the other man slipping away; he ripped the tie from his eyes. The Spy was gone.  
  
“Spah?” He called out, sitting up.  
  
“I’m sorry _Mon Cheri_ I must be going...I would love to cuddle, but next time, _oui_?” He tried to keep his voice up beat, but really it was killing him. As much as he was proud of himself for both his control and cleverness, it wouldn’t be long now before the real RED Spy ruined things, or Lance would find out what he really was...things couldn’t stay like this forever.

“Why do you hav’ta go? I won’t tell anybody. Hell I was worried you’d tell about _me_...” Lance almost pleaded, feeling a bit abandoned. He was putting a lot of trust in the Spy.

“No one will know, and I trust you...I trust you.” The voice said as a hand grabbed the tie from Lance’s grasp, flickering for just a moment before it vanished within the cloak as well.

Lance didn’t stop the Spy as he watched his door open and shut ‘on its own’.

He sighed, not liking that the man didn’t stay, but the spy must’ve had his reasons. Maybe he was too damn trusting.

But when the Spy said that, that he trusted HIM, his tone was like he had something worth entrusting, as if he had something to lose.

His hand slicked over his sticky chest, and it brought a satisfied smile to his lips, ‘ _Great now I need **another** shower before bed...’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH hey hope you enjoyed their first spate. ;) I am so proud of Domi for keeping his cool. His nervousness and want to make Lance happy really helped focus him and keep those instincts and tentacles at bay (which already had a good flex on the RED spy just before.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The RED Spy finally stumbles in the way of things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...AKA the chapter that 'shit hits the fan'. ;)

“Mein gott, vhat vas this again?”

 

“Bobcat.” The RED Spy replied distantly, his eyes bloodshot as they locked onto Doc.

 

“Zhere are bobcats around here?” The new medic, the transfer who had come on the supply train, looked over with feigned worry like he thought the Spy was overreacting. Spy turned his head slowly to look at the German, his face full of malcontent. He gave the medic such a dirty, under slept, wild eyed look that it made the other physically shy away.

“Vhell you seem to be alright...” Doc took a few more sample swabs and then warmed up his medigun, which for infirmary use was mounted to a ceiling harness to keep it charged. “We should check zhese for rabies, just in case,” He handed the samples to the new medic, who had taken to being an assistant for now to learn where everything was in the infirmary, though the man looked anything but greenhorn. He was just as old if not older than the current RED Medic.

“I’ll take care of it,” The other German replied calmly, giving their patient a funny look as he walked over to the storage cabinet, “Are you sure you did not get drunk and fall on a rake?”

The Spy pulled his already open shirt collar wider and showed off the deeply bruised bite and scratch marks there, “DOES ZHIS LOOK LIKE A RAKE TO YOU!?”

“Calm yourself Herr,” The senior medic planted the Spy back down onto the examination gurney, “You’ll be ready for zie field today, no problem.” He clicked on his medigun and turned it to the tired Spy, the warm vapors reconstructing his skin and mending his wounds.

The Spy would have told them what it REALLY was, but he still didn’t know it himself. He’d never gotten a clear look at what had attacked him. All he knew, was it had tentacles. And who would believe talk of a ‘monster’? Those were campfire stories...

 

“It certainly doesn’t look like a bobcat bite,” The new medic mumbled, eyes narrowing with a sideways glance.

 

...

 

As the men ran out onto the field for another day of territorial dispute, Dominique watched from one of his high perches above RED base. The fabric-padded, water filled scoop inside the curve of a rusted water tower made for a good place to watch the action out of harm’s way on a cool morning. Flicking his balisong as displacement activity, he indeed noticed the new RED Medic, though it was strange they had not transferred out the old one. Medics were expensive and less common, it was unusual to have more than one around with a smaller team like this. _‘No doubt he complained, didn’t want to leave the Heavy,’_ he thought, knowing the two were close. They would most likely send in a new Heavy within a fortnight and transfer them out together.

 

That would typically be the highlight of his month, but taking notes on the new member was the least on Domi’s mind right then. He was thinking about the RED engineer, more specifically, how he could somehow reveal reality to him. It wasn’t just about feeling useful, interacting, or the sex anymore, he was falling for the man.  
  
That evening in Lance's room a few days ago had been like opening the window in a stale sealed room. A breath of fresh air to a suffocating man. Domi carefully danced around the increasingly paranoid RED Spy as he came to the Texan any chance he could. Coming up to whisper in his ear and give it a few nibbles. Besides more small talk they chatted about the sexual encounter and Domi apologized for the tie blindfold, that he'd 'always wanted to try that'. Lance said was shocked he never did that with anyone. (In reality Domi had but it was a white lie to ease the topic...). He promised next time they could do it without. Lance prodded asking when he could get him in his room again, or if they should try his. The Spy faltered and said bitter sweetly, "Hopefully soon."  
  
Over the weekend they at least were able to have a moment outside as Lance passionately worked on his builds in his free time. Domi watched him for a bit, coming in and out every few hours, even reminding the Texan to go eat dinner. When he came back after to finish up - Domi, well, the RED Spy, was there waiting for him. Domi distracted him from his work with his knowledge of the night sky. Lance liked hearing about all the constellations and how they moved with the season or the time of night. All he knew was the basics like The Dipper, Cassiopeia, and Orion, whereas the Spy knew all of them, right down the smallest, faintest constellation. He must spend a lot of time looking at the sky, thought Lance.  
  
The whole thing was rather romantic to the engineer, and it was not long before he found his dick in the Spy’s eager hand and his lips on his chest. He had to be quiet as they were out and exposed. They were quick about the whole thing, but despite the danger Lance found it thrilling and arousing, if how fast he came was any indication.  
  
Domi reminded himself not to get cocky. Yes his updated cloak tech was very powerful and would not falter with general touching, especially when he was using a body holo-pattern of the same shape and size to his own, but his tentacles were always a worry. He was able to do all that with Lance without a blindfold that time as he was aided by the low lighting. Any small flickers of the cloak went unnoticed as Lance had his eyes closed for most of it anyway.    
  
He'd leave him each time with a passionate kiss and an affectionate smirk. He saw that look in Lance's eyes. He was falling for him too. Barely knew each other and already...

 

Lance deserved to know the truth. He felt horrible inside he had to deceive the Texan, but he did not have much choice, especially at the beginning when it all just started as a fun game to give him some BLU metal and do sneaky trickery again. Pretending to be something you’re not came so easily to him, it’s something he’d been doing his whole life. But this time his deceit was so he could get to know him. Maybe when the engineer found out what he really was then he wouldn’t just instantly see him as a nothing more than a monster. Maybe it would ease things; at least that was what the spy started hoping for.

 

 _“Soon...there will be a slip-up. One wrong comment from Lance to the real RED Spy, one misplaced gesture or tentacle,”_ He thought, using a tentacle to dump a stowed jug of water into his puddle of a ‘pool’, _“Questions would be asked. The RED Spy, he is no idiot. He will put two and two together...”_

 

...

 

“He must theenk I’m an _idiot_!” The RED Spy inhaled furiously on his fag and muttered to himself, thinking about the assumed covert BLU operative who had been fucking with him. “Theenks he can move about and do weeth me as ‘e pleases, who or whatever ‘e iz…” He stalked about cloaked, wary like a paranoid man that at any moment something would leap out at him from the ether.  
  
His original resolve to get to the bottom of it was renewed since that attack in the hall. Awoke in his room, stripped! Whatever it was had taken off his clothes and left him in bed naked. What the hell was even going on. Was this a plot by a new BLU Spy or was someone toying with him? Maybe his own team playing tricks? Perhaps it was the medics...there were _two_ of those weirdos now.

Lance was acting as a defender inside the RED base that day, looking for any BLU scouts who might happen by to go for defense points. A lithe looking sentry sat nestled by his feet, keeping vigilant watch. Its casing was sleekly painted RED, chips in its surface revealed the BLU metal underneath. But it didn’t matter where its metals originated, it was defending RED now.

Boleslav came up to warm himself by Lance’s dispenser, “Woah, are we getting hammered out there big fella?” The engineer asked. He hoped the heavy would take notice of his sentry, made using the metal he’d retrieved for him.

“Da, other team’s Demoman being especially clever today.” The Russian winced as his surface wounds were healed.

“Where’s Doc?” He knew those two were almost inseparable. Also Doc’s medigun would do a better job of healing the large man then his mechanical dispenser to pinpoint those small wounds.

“Helping Solider. New Doktor with Pyro sneaking in from side.”

“Best’a luck out there Boleslav,” Lance flashed his goggles at him as the large man ran back out to find his medic. Just as Lance was turning around, he nearly jumped. Their Spy was sitting there up on a wooden crate hunched over his dispenser, smoking in a disgruntled fashion and sighing with relief at the warm healing vapors.

“GEEZUS Spah, I told’ya you don’t hav’ta sneak up on me to git mah attention.” He chuckled, giving a friendly smile and inching up to him.

“Mmmm?” The RED glanced at him tiredly, “You need to be more attentive, next time eet will be ze BLU Spy.” He flicked open his knife and made a playfully dangerous ‘kill’ gesture to emphasize his point as he gave a throaty chuckle.

“Ahh, of’ course,” Lance laughed. He checked to make sure they were alone before petting a hand over the Spy’s knee, “Seems RED to me.” There was no flicker of cloak at the touch.

The Spy gave a funny look to the touch, like it was a little much for a spy check, “Good theenking,” He huddled his knees together, away from the engineer.

“You alright? You look like you didn’t sleep well again,” Lance observed, also noting his sour mood.

“You ‘ave _no_ idea.” The Spy let his last inhale seep slowly from his nostrils.

“Hey, if we were discreet about it, maybe I could….come share yer bed? Might help you sleep better?” He said with a helpful, affectionate tone. Bashful even. "You still owe me some cuddlin' after you runnin' out on me last time."

 

The Spy stared blankly in thought, alarm bells going off in his head.

 

Far as he knew, he's not shared a bed with the engineer, _any_ of the engineers. No way he got THAT drunk to fuck someone around here and forget about it.

“Ohhh?” The Spy finally said, giving a smile he was hoping wouldn’t seem fake to the engineer as he played along, “Heh well, sorry I - I didn't mean to, oui?” He fished. "Yes perhaps cuddles could help me sleep..."

“I feel so bad to see you so out of it. Besides, I'd love to get a good look at those things you did with your mouth and hands next time,” Lance bit his lip with more husky chuckling. He couldn’t help but smile ear to ear, it really was too wonderful. He checked around again to make sure no one was there. Everything was quiet on the home front, nothing but the hum of his dispenser and the beeps of his sentry.

If it wasn’t for the Spy’s extensive experience and training, he’d have given the engineer the most aghast, confused face known to man. After hearing those words and seeing how the man was acting, he could only assume that the Engineer truly believed they’d had sexual relations. And who else could impersonate him but another Spy? And he was RED team’s only Spy. Either someone else on their team was playing with a disguise kit, or the BLU spy was using HIM as a skin.

Meanwhile, Dominique returned to the canals as the sun rose. He only had so much fresh water stowed at a time in his lookout nests. He swam by the front of RED base, along the straight running, concrete lined canals. Passing under one of the foot bridges, he heard the heavy fire of the Heavy’s machine gun, followed by German and Russian tinged laughter. Not long after the body of the RED Demoman came splashing into the water. Domi retreated deeper and away to avoid any stray fire, though the smell of blood still filled his nostrils in the water.

He swam down, almost to the bottom, and into a large inlet pipe that led up into RED base as a well opening. He pushed up on the wooden cover with a tentacle as he came to the pipe’s end, peeking out cautiously. The coast was clear.

In fact, he heard the beeping of a sentry just out of view around the corner. He smelled the air, clearing water from his sinuses.

 

It was Lance.

...And the RED Spy, he knew that brand of menthols anywhere.

 

The RED Spy took a few stalling pulls of his cigarette, smirking and laughing in his throat to buy him time to think. “OH Monsieur, you flatter me,” He played along with Lance, hoping to learn more.

“Next time, no blindfold.” The engineer held up a finger in a joking accusatory fashion, “Though I admit that _was_ fun.”

 _‘Could that be why my tie was all wrinkled...?'_ the Spy thought, “ _Petit_ , I thought you might like eet, heh heh,” He hoped the typical French pet name was suitable, and gave a pet to the Engineer’s cheek, in a ‘ _oh you’re so cute’_ manner.

Inside he was rather disgusted with his display. While he didn’t have an issue with men sleeping with men, why would another Spy want to go to so much trouble with THIS man of all people?   What could the BLU Spy, assuming it WAS the BLU Spy, have to gain? Perhaps he wanted to gain access to their shop? Steal intel on their builds? Lance DID build some unique...things. But couldn’t he easily steal such information without sleeping with the man if he could get in and out of their base without detection?

More importantly, what did that thing that attacked him have to do with the BLU Spy? Was it some kind of ‘guard dog’ for BLU? Maybe it worked for the BLU Spy?

As he thought he took out his disguise kit to see which BLU he’d load up, and to get a new cigarette. Best to get out of there before the engineer wanted a kiss or something. His head was buzzing with new questions now that he was getting some answers. He needed time to think and plan his next move.

“Any problems with th’ fixed disguise kit?” Lance asked.

“Huh?” The Spy blinked again, “AH non, eet’s working perfectly Mon Ami, _merci_.” He smiled, thinking _‘fixed? It was not broken?'_

“I like checkin’ in on my handiwork,” Lance beamed.

“AH… ‘ow long ago was eet that you fixed eet up again? ” He fished some more. Apparently someone was doing a LOT of things in his body.

“About three weeks ago now I believe.”

“Time flies,” The Spy flicked the case closed, putting the fresh cig in his teeth. “I’ll be sure to ask again eef I need anozzer tune up,” He said coolly.

“Anytime…” Lance said a little sadly, seeing the Spy was getting ready to head back out.

“Take care of yourself _Mon Cheri_ ,” The RED Spy laid it on thick, and tried to imagine the Engineer was someone else as he whispered the words brushing his lips against the other man’s ear teasingly.

 

Watching the exchange…was a fuming tentaspy.

 

There was no rational look, or humanity, in his eyes. His increasingly raspy breathing devolving into low growls. As the RED Spy cloaked and made way for the BLU sidelines, he had no inkling of the predator stalking behind him. Cloaked and silent, Domi snuck low past Lance and out the front steel door, creeping up onto shipping crates like a rolling fog looming over the RED.  

Hormones and animal instinct clouded over his judgment like a storm. Had he been thinking rationally, he’d have been distraught that his cover was blown, that the RED Spy knew something was up, and he should have been planning how to deal with it.

But in watching the RED Spy flirt with the RED engineer, HIS engineer, these little jealous voices welled up in him. It wasn’t intelligent jealousy, this was purely territorial, and it was strongly voicing,

 

 **HE’S TRYING TO TAKE WHAT IS YOURS.**  
  
INVADING YOUR TERRITORY.

**HE’S TRYING TO STEAL YOUR MATE.**

 

Convinced the Spy really was trying to take his place and steal the engineer from him, the tentaspy drew closer. His teeth were bared, his pupils were dilated, and his claws were extended.

The RED didn’t even know what hit him when the tentaspy pounced onto him from above, bowling him over and right into the canal. There was a few moments of silent disorientation as the Spy struggled in the water, trying to find which way was up, he hadn’t gotten a full breath before being plunged in. He was about to break the surface when a tentacle whipped out and snagged his leg. A flurry of bubbles and water-muffled cries trailed after him as he was yanked down.

After what felt like being tumbled by an ocean wave, he was mercifully pushed above the surface just as his burning lungs were about to give out. Gasping and coughing, he was pulled under again, a loud cry of ‘HELP’ being cut off before he could finish the syllable. He was greeted by a sharp toothed snarl, uncloaking painfully clear in front of him in the water.

The Spy struggled, fighting both to get to the surface and to get to any of his weapons. He wasn’t much of a match for the strength of the suckered limbs all around him, but Domi also wasn’t thinking clearly, he was not as coordinated with restraining the man.

As soon as he was allowed another breath, the RED Spy cried for help again, before his mouth was covered by a wrapping tentacle. He was pressed up against the side of the canal, then up over the edge so his back hit the ground, the tentaspy over him like a lion with its prey. TOYING with its prey.

Not far away, looking out the open top windows of the factory-like RED building was the Sniper. He glanced towards what he swore was a very panicked cry for help, just heard over a lull in the gunfire that had all shifted towards the BLU side of the field (The two docs pushing back the front lines with Solider and Heavy after the BLU Demoman was dealt with).

Zooming in with his scope, he saw something that made him question if he was dreaming. Coiled around their Spy was - well it looked like a BLU Spy, if a BLU spy was mashed together with a sea monster.

“Wot in bloody ‘ell?” He murmured, throat going dry. It took him a moment to concentrate again, because he remembered what the Spy had been going on and on about recently, being spooked and paranoid for weeks. Was _this_ what he was talking about? Well, the Sniper believed him now.

He turned his laser sight on to try and line up a shot to protect the Spy.

After an intimidating snarl, the tentaspy warned in a hiss, “You stay away from Lance!”

The RED Spy couldn’t answer, there was a tentacle clasped over his mouth. He winced and twitched in the tight grasp, pretty sure that pain in his ankle and chest was something being broken.

“He’s mine, you got zhat!?” The monster loosened his grip just enough in his distraction as he thought of his words. The RED Spy didn’t waste any time, calling loudly for help as he managed to get a hold of his Ambassador. Domi whipped him over as the gun was fired, moving with ferocious speed and litheness, making sure he was kept silent THIS time with a bite to his neck. The gun was knocked away, the bleeding bullet wound near the base of a tentacle not being nearly enough to slow him down.            

“Let him go!” A shaky voice came from behind the tentaspy and his captive.

The neck was released before the bite could be made fatal.

“SHIT! Damn Engineer in the way of moi shot,” The Sniper growled, moving to realign it.

 

“Lance…?” Domi said distantly, like he didn’t quite realize what was going on.  
  
There was his Engineer, pistol aimed firmly with both hands.

Lance didn’t quite believe what he was seeing any more than the far off Sniper did, but what he did know when he came running to the cries for help, was that it looked like a BLU Spy, and it had his lover in its grasp. “W - whatever you are, back off or I’ll shoot! Ya hear me?” He said firmly. The Texan was a little afraid to open fire unless he had to, that thing looked dangerous. He didn’t know what it could do.

Words failed Domi as he began to understand the situation; he looked down, the RED Spy in his grasp, breathing ragged and bloody with claw marks, and Lance…LANCE there pointing a gun at him. He didn’t even notice the RED laser sight trailing over his head.

Domi moved closer to the Engineer, “ _Petit_ eet’s not what eet-” He snarled in pain as Lance shot him in the shoulder, and jerked away with coiling tentacles, just in time for a second, larger caliber bullet to hit him in the chest. The cry was louder this time, and the RED Spy was released as the wounded creature slipped backwards into the canal and out of sight under the surface.           

“Missed,” The Sniper grumbled. When Domi was hit just a second before the Sniper took HIS shot, it made him jerk out of line of a headshot. Still, he hit the thing, and it vanished into the water.

“Spah! Spah, you alright?” Lance pocketed his weapon and came running to his team mate who meant a lot more to him then being just of the same employer. He helped the man up, the Frenchman couldn’t put weight on one of his ankles and he went back to sitting in a cry of pain and anger.

“Doc!” Lance called for a medic, and put his arms protectively around the Spy, “I’m sure of’em will be along shortly, hang in there babe.” Lance smiled and kept a suspicious eye to the canal, and pet over the Spy’s chest looking at his injuries, but it was quite obvious from his touch he was treating the Spy like a lover.

“I’m not your ‘ _babe’_!” The Spy finally spat, pushing away Lance’s touch. He wasn’t THAT disgusted with the man, but in his frustration, pain and ordeal he didn’t want THIS on top of it all. Besides there was no way him playing along now would give him any edge to find out more from the engineer since that thing attacked him. It was obvious BLU knew HE knew something was up.

“Now now calm down -” Lance just thought he was being understandably unreasonable with his ordeal.

“I’m not your babe and I’m not your ‘ _Cheri’_! Someone ‘as been using my skin, impersonating me to get closer to YOU.” The RED Spy voiced, “I can only assume eet is ze BLU Spy. And zhat…zhat THEENG is working weeth ‘im!” He groaned holding his chest, definitely broken ribs.

“W - what?” Lance said, his face and tone disbelieving but also heartbreaking as a heavy feeling sunk down into the pit of his stomach as the Spy's words sank in.

“I’m sorry, I am not ze RED Spy you know.” He said a bit more solemnly, moaning after and hoping the medic would get there shortly.

Backup arrived seconds after in the form of Doc and Boleslav. Lance was distant as he watched their medic look over Spy, medigun his main injuries, then instruct Boleslav to pick him up and take him to the infirmary, his bones would need manual resetting.

Not another word was said between the engineer and the Spy that day.

....

The look on his face.

 

It was not unexpected, but it didn’t make it any easier.

 

After he got over the initial shock of being shot, Domi poked his eyes above the water to see what was transpiring. He caught a glimpse of the RED Spy being carried off by Boleslav, with a very distant engineer following after.

There was no doubt in Domi’s mind the Spy had told him ‘the truth’.

Just then, the pain from his injuries REALLY hit him; he sank to the bottom, blacking out.

His body jolted him awake a few minutes later. If he didn’t seek out help, he’d soon bleed to death. Two nursing tentacles coiled around his torso, half to squeeze against the pain, but also they were acting like a tourniquet. He limped to his dry goods den, which for him in his state was a sort of sloppy crawling on hands and tentacles. In the hidden den was a stolen med kit waiting for this kind of emergency. It was amazing luck the Sniper’s botched shot didn’t hit his heart. Without quick action from a medic, he’d have been dead, even with his heightened ability to deal with injury.  

As his tentacles dragged him along, he could feel water slipping through the bullet hole in his chest as he breathed out his gills. The Sniper bullet had gone clear through him.

In the dry air pocket hidden underneath the shipyard drainage sewers Domi pulled aside his damaged clothes to inspect the wounds. He slipped them off a moment after and used his claws like tweezers to feel inside the shoulder wound.   The smaller pistol shot was still in there.

“Aggnnn!” He clenched his teeth and gripped his tentacles firmly to the railing that rimmed the ledge. His vision momentarily whited out from the pain. When he could focus his eyes again, he saw the bullet there in his claw tips. It was tossed aside, and he winced as he shakily uncapped the short, thick, med kit syringe. It was pre-filled, the liquid inside glowing soft blue in the dim lighting. There was another cry as he stabbed it in next to the larger of the bullet wounds.

He threw the empty syringe against the wall not far from where he tossed the bullet. But the syringe was far more breakable, and it shattered to the concrete floor, the sound echoing off the walls. The sound was overshadowed by Domi’s growl of pained frustration, which muffled as he slipped limply back into the water. His breathing stabilized as the hole in his chest sealed up, flesh regenerating, pain slowly fading...

His uninjured tentacles curled at the damaged one where the Spy’s ambassador had shot him at point blank range, nursing at the wound. It would take more time for the med kit’s effect to reach there.

Domi stared up at the dark water above him, his back to the canal floor. The physical pain was predominated by an even greater pain in his chest. He’d been living such a lie the past few weeks...such a self-deceiving, hopeful lie. He couldn’t have just been happy to interact with the teams with his fixed gear, he couldn’t just flirt or chat...he had to go and get so involved. He just had to fall in love.

And not only that, but he’d hurt the one he cared about, and revealed himself to RED.

He’d been nothing more than some wild animal, snarling and baring teeth as he attacked RED Spy like he was competition for a mate. The way Lance had looked at him...that was how he was viewed. That was what he was.

  
**Monster.**  
  
  
The tentaspy turned over, curling up on himself.  
  
  
You can try to cover it up with all the garnish you want, but that’s what you are at the end of the day.  
  
  
  
_A monster._

...

...

...

Deceived. Tricked.   Lied to.

These were the thoughts running through Lance’s head as he sat alone in bed, looking a bit lost and vulnerable. How could he have been so STUPID. How could he have let the BLU spy trick him like that, play his heart strings like a violin to get to his team. It was all according to some plan. He was just a cog in his deception machine.

The BLU was probably smirking the whole time he was blindfolded while they...

What frustrated the engineer the most was how _real_ it all was. How the man looked at him, touched him, every soft gesture, how he talked, his tone of voice; if Lance couldn’t tell the difference between real love and deception how could he even trust _himself_? How could he trust his own judgment on how ANYONE treated him? Was he really so gullible, so blind? So fucking STUPID.

He didn’t want to interact with anyone. He just wanted to sleep forever, sleep it all off...dammit why wasn’t it the weekend…

...  
...  
...

There was a somber, grumpy faced balaclava peeking out from the RED infirmary bed sheets.

“Come, you must eat.” The Medic poked some breakfast in the Frenchman’s face. His newer comrade stood over him, watching carefully.

His wounds had been healed, but his cracked/dislocated bones had required surgery to reset, and it took a little time for them to settle before they could seal them with the medigun. For observation, the Spy had slept in the infirmary. It was now early the next morning well before time for the daily fight to start. They were hoping to set the bones before the day started, but to be down a Spy for one day wasn’t too terrible if they could not. More likely than not he’d sit the day out.

The medics finally grew tired of coaxing their patient like a child. The food was left on a table in front of the Spy and the man was left alone as they went off to ready gear for the day.

The RED Spy’s mind was a strange mixture of anger and regret. First and foremost, he was angry for being so easily played, for being a pawn of that conniving BLU Spy bastard. It made him feel outclassed and out maneuvered. It ate away at his pride like acid.

‘ _No one plays me like that— no one...and gets away with it,’_ his mind churned.

The regret came from the causality of this deception, their engineer. The RED Spy was ruthless, but like any gentleman, he understood and respected love. That look in the Texan’s eyes. It was unmistakable, and heartbreaking. How _dare_ the BLU do such a thing.

The Spy sat up and put the plate in his lap. He poked at the sausage, hash browns, and eggs. Did the medics REALLY wonder why he was so reluctant to eat it? But he WAS hungry, no denying that, and enough butter and salt could mask the driest hash browns or the blandest sausage.  
  
Not long after he started eating, did the door to the infirmary crack open slowly. The stealthy Frenchman was so quiet, that Lance didn’t even notice the RED Spy until his fork _chinked_ against the metal plate. The Engineer jumped, almost dropping the aspirin he’d come to get for his headache. There was an awkward silence, both making eye contact from across the room.

The RED Spy looked so less proud and powerful than usual; just a white undershirt, balaclava, and boxers. He looked so _human_. There were wide bandages around his ankle and torso. Lance didn’t look much better though, he didn’t look like he slept well and had not even gotten dressed for the day yet.

As far as he knew, the Spy sitting there wasn’t interested in him, but seeing his face still arose feelings.

“I was jes gettin’ an aspirin,” Lance finally said, closing the medicine cabinet; the silence was terribly heavy. He got a paper cup from the infirmary sink and filled it with water.

“Oui,” The Spy replied simply, taking another bite but not looking away as Lance took the pill.

Lance began to leave, but he had questions that had been gnawing at him; he couldn’t keep them to himself. He turned just as he was at the door and came back over with resolve, “W...when did you know? When did ‘ya find out about the BLU’s tryin’ to infiltrate us usin’ you?” It was said in a half angry half bittersweet manner of ‘ _why didn’t you tell me?’_

“That theeng you saw, that...monster BLU must ‘ave created – he attacked me in bed about a month ago. Then in ze hallway last week, then ze other day as you saw. I did not find out zhey were using MY face until yesterday. I would ‘ave informed you after I used ze information to my advantage,” he said professionally, but his voice was tired. The plate was put aside.

“Ahh.” The Engineer crossed his arms, looking like it didn’t make him feel that much better. He was thinking though, back to when the RED Spy first left him that note asking to fix his disguise kit. That must have been the BLU too then.

“Mon Ami, you mustn’t let eet get to you. Ze BLU’s are ruthless. We will strike back accordingly.” The Spy reached for his cigarette case and flicked it open.

There was something else clawing at Lance’s mind. Spy obviously knew, knew he’d been _involved_ with ‘him’. How could he bring up such a thing? Shit, best just to do it, “Spah, might I ask you...not to explain the details of this to th’ men?” He gave a pained sigh. “Please...I’ll, I’ll do any favor ya’ ask.” He seemed uncomfortable in saying this, like he might regret it.

The lighter was lowered as Spy’s mouth curled up, and he finally laughed, but not too hard as he couldn’t with his healing ribs. “Ze Docteur.”

“Wha?” Lance was taken aback, had the Spy lost it?

“Ze Docteur and ze Russian, I’m surprised you ‘ave not ‘eard them through ze walls.” He chuckled, “And Ze Sniper would not admit eet, but also ‘e’s been known to enjoy male company as well. While I’m not sure how much of all this iz of ‘convenience’ for everyone, you are not ze only one ‘guilty’ of playing around weeth other men.”

The Frenchman took as deep a drag as he could and then continued, blowing the smoke out as he talked. “You can know from ME, I ‘ave no problem weeth whoever you choose to fuck weeth or love. And I’d appreciate eet if you kept THAT information from ze men, as well.”  

The engineer felt the best he had in 24 hours hearing that from Spy. It took a big weight off his worries. “Spah, you- you kin trust me. No doubt about that. Thank you.” He smiled with a thankful look.

“Excellent.” The Spy returned the grin, his cig loosely in his bare hand. He groaned soon after, leaning over, “I can’t wait for ze medic to set zhese bones...”

“You’ll be good as new.” Lance wanted so badly to comfort him, but he had to keep telling himself, this wasn’t ‘his’ RED Spy, nor was that Spy ever real.   He swallowed and sighed, wanting to leave because he wasn’t sure how much better this was making him feel being around Spy right now.

“Well, take it easy, alright?” He gave a wave and made his leave. On his way out the door he brushed past their Sniper, who gave him a knowing glance. But he said nothing; he merely passed by the engineer and into the infirmary.

Back in his room to get dressed in his work gear, the engineer thought now about that _creature_ that had attacked their Spy. Heartbreak and BLU infiltrating them was one thing, but that …whatever it was, was beyond anything he’d ever seen. BLU must have been playing with the very laws of nature. It was both fascinating and horrifying to think how that creature had been made, or bred. God knows what. Not that God had anything to do with it…  

Now that he was in the calm of his room, Lance could think back to the encounter. It was a little of a blur, everything happened so fast. But looking back now, the creature had tried to talk to him; he had said his name, like he knew him. He looked so confused and…sorry? When the BLU came at him, Lance of course had felt scared, all those _tentacles_ twisting like something out of a science fiction movie. All he could think of was to keep it AWAY, and wanting to protect who he thought was a lover injured on the ground. He fired his gun and the BLU vanished into the canal.

 

“Water damage...” Lance whispered out loud in thought, “The disguise kit and Cloak and Dagger I repaired were _water damaged_....”

 

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach as he had the thought - was the BLU Spy really involved at all –

 

\- or had the entire deception for BLU been carried out by that _creature_?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, get ready for delicious angst and pathetic tentaspy. 
> 
> Also warning for some over the top medical squik. But you're reading TF2 fic with medics, so that is kinda expected. :P

Dominique felt lethargic and depressed enough to sleep forever. He awoke the next afternoon with a killer of a headache from the medikit serum, and a relentlessly growling stomach reminding him he was unfortunately still alive, and if he wanted to stay that way he better get up to hunt for food.  His tentacles flopped about as he wallowed in self pity hoping his fast metabolism would just get on with it and do him in already. He exhausted himself and fell asleep again.

 

His headache was mostly gone the next morning, but his hunger was worse than ever.  His self preservation instinct was apparently too high to let himself waste away, because he found himself half-heartedly crawling out of his den and to the main canal. He wouldn't have enough energy to hunt if he didn’t eat today, and with the bases on high alert he couldn’t risk stealing food.   
  
The tentaspy stationed himself at the bottom of the canal near the fences where fish liked to gather and pick at plant matter and algae.  He let his tentacles do the work, exploring their environment looking for anything edible. His thoughts wandered.   
  
Considering his faded BLU uniform, RED would think he was a BLU Spy trying to infiltrate, using Lance to get intel.  There was only one BLU Spy though, so to see him was probably confusing for the RED team. Due to the scheduled nature of the territory war, fighting one another after hours was frowned upon; it was considered dirty pool.  But spies _were_ another story.  Their intel gathering was not always on a schedule.   
  
Domi knew with these assumptions, the engineer must think he had been used and played with, knowing by now it wasn’t their RED Spy who did those things with him.

If Lance thinking he was used emotionally and sexually wasn’t bad enough of a thought, he pondered if Lance felt ill to know it was the likes of him who was having sex and flirting with him - a _tentacled monstrosity_ who had been masquerading as a normal spy.  This was assuming they even thought he was anything more than a monster.  He’d completely lost it during that encounter, so he wouldn't be surprised they would think nothing more of him. 

 

They might think the BLU Spy was the one using the RED Spy’s skin, and he himself was just…some kind of attack monster for him.  Some secret experiment of BLU's perhaps.  Who knows, with how shady RED and BLU were, the men would not put it past their companies to do something like that.  No doubt the RED Spy would start fiercely collecting new intelligence.  
  
Domi sank down into his tentacles and sighed a deep breath of water.  He'd ruined _everything_.   
  
After such a scene how could he go and try to talk to the engineer again?  _"I’m sorry I attacked your teammate. I didn’t mean to do it. I’d never snap at and attack YOU like some rabid dog. And oh, I don’t work for BLU anymore. They don’t even know I'm still alive. By the way, I think the world of you,"_ Dominique thought sarcastically, carving lines abstractly into a nearby log with his claws.

 

His industrious tentacles finally brought a fish back in their suckered grasp. He took his frustration out on the prey, ripping at the flesh with his teeth and claws, and crunching through the bones with a snarl.  God it was so good though.  He was starving.  His healing body was part of the increased need.  He hissed with dilated pupils at a large catfish trying to get in on the cloud of fish guts.  It turned tail seeing how large a predator Domi really was.  However, it wasn’t fast enough to escape the reach of his lightning fast tentacles.  

Having a full belly perked his mood a little, and he lay on the riverbank far outside the fence clearing his head of the haze of prey drive.  Everything was a mess, but he couldn’t wallow in self pity forever.  He’d done plenty of that at his worst moments in the past.  Horrible as he felt, he had to push on.  His existence was a harsh-edged razor he lived in dangerous intimacy with.   
  
_"Look at how much you’ve accomplished thus far.  You’ve survived and evaded detection until now.  You have fully working gear again.  You can’t stop now,"_  He thought to himself.  Flirt with death just a little longer,  
  
Just because he decided to keep living didn’t mean he felt great about everything.  He could live with being a mercenary.  He’d led that life far too long to hold regret for it.  Lance was no saint either, but to lie and deceive someone as he had, and now how they must feel and to be helpless to speak on your behalf to console them…

  
He slipped back into the cool water to go find a corner to curl up in and sleep until his stomach would inevitably wake him again.

...

Dominique listed about through into the weekly battle, gathering composure and letting his body heal fully from the severe wounds.  Merely existing like the ghost he was.  
  
He watched Lance from a distance with a heavy heart. Lance was building a dispenser in the central building for the day’s scheduled fighting.  Domi could tell he was depressed too.  He wasn’t as chipper as usual, and the few smiles he gave teammates seemed forced.  He let his builds unwrap themselves with a distant look, not really checking them until they were done.

Domi wanted to jump down there and tell him everything.  Apologize even if he didn’t deserve to be forgiven.  He wasn’t even expecting to _be_ forgiven, he just wanted Lance to know his feelings had been real and he wasn’t just a…a…  
  
But not yet.

 

Patience.  
  
…

 

It was a quiet, Sunday evening.  Dominique cautiously hung around RED base, keeping an eye and nose out for traces of the RED Spy, or anyone for that matter who might be seeking him out.  He was known now.  They knew there was a monster in the canals.

 

He caught the scent of what he was looking for.  Domi crept out of the canal, cloaked and low to the ground on hands and tentacles.  He suckered his way up onto a shipping container, chest against its surface, stalking like a cat.   
  
It was Lance, out back by the smelting area where he could usually be found.  Only instead of working, he was just sitting there.  His back was to where Domi was spying from.  He was in casual clothes, slumped over with his head on a hand, sighing like he was deep in thought.

Domi licked past his sharp teeth and his brow furrowed up with emotion.  He looked around to sense for other signs of life.  No smells, sounds, or visual of anyone else. He could hear the distant sounds of the teams inside chatting and laughing it up at dinner in the mess hall.  Coast was clear.  Now or never, take the chance.

To ease the situation, he flicked open his disguise kit, bringing his old data pattern over himself.  At least then it wouldn’t be such a visual shock right off the bat.  He was used to danger, and this was not only risky, but made his heart beat with trepidation of a different manner. 

The engineer’s mulling was broken by the sound of soft shuffling, like footsteps.  He whirled around with caution, and laid eyes on a BLU clad figure.

Domi paused in his walking.  He was a few yards away, reading Lance’s face.  The engineer was just staring back, frozen.  He wondered what kind of fear he was feeling. “Mon Cheri...” Domi whispered, “Please don’t be afraid.  I’m not here to ‘urt you, I’d never ‘urt you.” He tried his best to sound reassuring.  As he talked he moved slowly forward, hands out in front in a manner that showed they were empty of any weapons, but also it showed his nervousness.

“What’a you doin’ here?” Lance replied quickly.  His face contorted in fear and confused anger. It was _that_ spy, the hidden BLU. Where were those _tentacles_ though?  “You best keep right where ye are.”

“Let me speak,” Domi reached up, un-tucking his balaclava and slipping the tight mask off.  He hoped showing his face would emphasize his non-association with BLU and that he trusted the other.  His cloak flickered about his face, only for a moment, the hologram adjusted very quickly.

Revealing his face made the Engineer fall silent again, eyes widening.  But he didn’t budge, or reply.

“I don’t work for BLU anymore.  Much as I wear this uniform... eet has nothing to do weeth my loyalties.” Domi took a few steps closer as he spoke.

“Like I buy that,” Lance muttered, whipping out a gun from behind the pile of scrap he’d been sitting on.  Something about his posture made Domi pause, but the weapon in his hand was what made him stop in his tracks.  It looked like a miniature syringe gun.

Before he could think about it, the weapon had fired, and three syringes hit him in his chest.

Besides the shock and confusion, Domi suddenly felt so heavy...limbs going slack.  His disguise flickered and shorted out as he crumpled to the ground.  He struggled to move, terror coming over him as he realized quite obviously –

\- that wasn’t Lance.   
  
The fear showed in Dominique’s eyes as he looked up at the figure walking towards him.  Whatever he was drugged with, it was making everything feel like it weighed a thousand pounds.  His body could still respond to muscle twitches, but they had no strength behind them.  His tentacles coiled without coordination.  He tried to push himself up on his arms.  Sounds began to echo as the seconds wore on, like he was falling into a long tunnel.

“Oh dear, I’ve made quite a mess,” A French voice said though Lance’s body, which rippled into the taller figure of the RED Spy.  He shrugged off the red button up he had on over his suit, tossing it onto a workbench.

“The Sniper told me to use one of my target’s shirts to mask my scent, saying a creature like yourself might ‘ave a good nose.  I was skeptical, but I trust ‘is judgment when eet comes to ‘unting animals,”  The Spy said with smugness, taking out a cigarette.  The orange glow from his lighter lit up his face in the darkness for a moment.  He savored it’s taste like he’d been missing them while lying in wait.

Before any other pleasantries, the RED Spy resolutely came right up to the half paralyzed tentaspy, his Ambassador drawn just in case the chemicals he ‘borrowed’ from the Medics didn’t work as expected, and gave the creature a swift kick in the gut.

“AHHggnnn!” Domi cried out in a far more animal then human manner, and attempted to curl up against the assault.  It was like a nightmare, no matter how hard you fight to move, you can’t, like your body is stuck in molasses.

“THAT’s for stealing my face, and THAT’S - ” He gave another blow, “For breaking my ankles and stealing my clothes, THIS iz for all ze sleep I lost, and THIS,” He gave an especially firm kick, “Iz for ‘urting my teammate.”

The last one landed square into Domi’s side, which was managed because Domi had tried to curl up so much he was almost face down to the ground.  This elicited the biggest cry of all, teeth flashing, and causing him to writhe all the way around onto his back.

 _‘Fuck. FUCK!’_ Dominique hissed to himself while trying to wrap protective tentacles around his torso.  His gills, he could _hear_ something snap, the bone supports in them like little ribs.  Searing pain shot up his whole torso.  It was like getting kicked in the nuts but ten times worse.  His breathing fluttered into shallow gasps, and blood started to drip down his sides under his vest.  The red color seeped into his white button-up shirt.

“ _Mon dieu_ , you are quite un monstre, oui?”  The Spy sneered, looking over the creature’s form with morbid fascination, “Now, are you going to tell me what BLU has planned, or will I be sending you through a painful Respawn?”  He pointed his large gun at Domi’s head threateningly.

Domi, delirious in pained confusion, wasn’t responding but simply staring back with contempt.  His breathing was stuttered, it sounded pathetic to the RED Spy, who was mad with power at that moment.  All his frustrations, all his sleepless nights, to find out _his_ face was being used in a _plot_ for so long without him knowing.  It made him sick.

“I – I don’t work for BLU...I...I t-told you zhat.” The tentaspy rasped.

“Did you work alone?  Or weeth ze BLU Spy?”

“Alone!” Domi struck back in a forced manner, like it was painful to talk “I...I’m not w-weeth a-anyone or anything.”

“I was theenking eet was just you, but I could not believe eet at first.  I didn’t think that your... _form_ could fit into a cloaking device hologram.  But seeing you just now proved me wrong.  That, and I didn’t know if you’d be capable of impersonating me so convincingly.”  The RED Spy exhaled cigarette smoke.

Domi tried so hard to get a tentacle around the other’s ankles, to knock him over, anything...but it wasn’t hard for the RED Spy to keep his distance and kick away any stray tentacles.  Dominique groaned in frustration.   
  
“What iz BLU planning?” The RED Spy repeated, not buying these stories.   
  
To Domi his voice sounded like he was talking out of a badly tuned radio station.  “I...I d-don’t – I don’t work for BLU anymore,” he replied with a worn out tone, voice hoarse.  Water...god he felt his breathing getting dry so much faster than usual with how he was heaving against the injuries in his chest.  With the world starting to spin all he wanted to do was slip back to the canal. 

 

“Then _what_ did you want weeth my teammate?” The RED Spy drilled, frustrated, and the gun pressing now into the other’s exposed forehead.

 

“T-to get to....know him,” he choked back, cheek against the dusty ground, “Please...” Domi gasped, his tone not pleading, more so tired and desperate to be understood.

 

The RED pushed the gun harder into his enemy’s skull.  His face was so strange.  Was he really telling the truth?  If he _wasn’t_ working for BLU then why was he here and _how_ had he become some kind of science experiment wearing a Spy’s uniform?  It enraged and confused the Spy.  He wanted ANSWERS.

 

Dominique closed his eyes, like he was ready to accept death.  He’d cheated it long enough.  If he was to die here, like this, would it really be so unwarranted?  What future could he have, what hope could he have to be happy?  He’d faced death so many times in his life that the overall fear of it was numb to him, but lying there feeling so helpless at the hands of an enemy, and thoughts of what could have been in a perfect world, were what stung the most.   
  
These thoughts ran though his drug-clouded mind, everything lulling into a distant buzz, the RED Spy’s questions getting increasingly out of focus.

 

The tentaspy heard the click of a gun cocking, but it was quickly drowned out by the yelling that came from around the side of the building.  Running up was almost half the team.   
  
The RED Spy saw Sniper in with the bunch, looking right at him.  _‘He must have been spying on me...’_ The Spy thought.  Though it was obvious, he’d been worried if he _had_ attracted the BLU monster as he was trying to do.  He was watching his back from afar with his scope.  That’s what Spy got for discussing his plans with the Australian.

For those who hadn’t yet laid eyes yet on the BLU monstrosity, they gasped and stared like watching a spectacle at the circus.  All had heard by now through gossip what their teammates had seen.  Hearing and seeing with your own eyes were two different things though.  And there was Dominique, fully exposed with no cloaking device activated, tentacles splayed all over the ground, claws dug into the dirt.

Everyone buzzed to one another, the voices blurring together.  Domi looked up hazily, a twitchy, pathetic pile of slowly suffocating tentaspy.  Between the drugs and the constricted breaths, he was passing out.  He fought to stay awake, to keep aware.  Last time...last time he was like this it was when he woke up after that fateful Respawn.  He’d tried everything to remember those hours, or had it been days?  He didn’t even know.  All he knew is he didn’t want that again.

He found a face in the haze.  Lance.   
  
Lance was there with the others, staring.  Was he scared?  Confused?  Angry?  Domi tried to lift his head, the eye contact keeping him lucid as they locked gaze for some time.  He found himself physically unable to form words because of the drugs overtaking him, but he tried to speak instead through his expression.

“You know him?” Roscoe spoke up, seeing the look they were giving one another.

 

Lance looked like he wasn’t sure for a moment, but he swallowed and broke the gaze, looking to the side like it hurt to say, “No...I don’t know ‘im.  I don’t know him at all.”

 

Domi felt his head drop to the ground, the haze overtaking him as everything crashed around him like a wave.  He was able to make out a medic leaning over him with interest, the other talking loudly to the RED Spy, something about ‘taking drugs without permission’...

A German accent barked, there was arguing.  Then foot steps...metallic noises of wheels.  The tentaspy’s head fell slack as he was lifted, body limp.  Even so, weak tentacles tried to coil and grip around the many hands picking him up.  He felt cold metal, some tightness, and movement.

 

Then everything went black.

 ...

...

 

“UUggnnnn,”

“Oh gute, you’re alive,” A distant German accent echoed, matching to a blurry face.

 

Everything ached, that was what Dominique could first realize.  He winced at the normally dull infirmary lights, now blinding his overly sensitive eyes.  He inhaled a breath, becoming conscious now of his breathing.  His throat was sore.  He choked for a moment, there was something in there.  A...tube?  He gagged slightly; it WAS a tube...up his nose actually, leading down into just inside his trachea.  It was then he became aware of a damp trickle.  The tube was rationing out a steady flow of water down his throat, just enough to keep his lungs damp so he could breathe air normally.

“Thankfully I could rig zhat up for you, your lungs don’t vhork as vhell as expected...”  The voice was annoyed at the latter statement, but he couldn’t help but chuckle after almost everything he was saying, like he could barely contain himself.

Domi glanced towards the voice, seeing a RED Medic there checking over an IV drip that disappeared where he couldn’t see.  He flinched as suddenly his chin was grabbed and a small flashlight was shone into his eyes.  His pupils constricted and he hissed in surprise, baring his teeth.  It was over quickly as it happened, his jaw released.

“Your eyes don’t keep moisture perfectly either over long term periods, such a disappointment...” The medic unscrewed a small bottle and Domi shyed away as drops of wet smacked him in the face, and ran into his eyes.  However, afterward he could see much clearer.

He could make it out now; the man was the new medic, not ‘Doc’ as everyone so affectionately called the long-standing Medic.  He’d not had much chance to learn about the man yet; he’d arrived less then a fortnight ago.  He looked perhaps older than Doc, maybe 50 years old.  His temples were grayed, the rest of his short hair medium brown.

 

The tentaspy glanced around, checking his surroundings, smelling the room, and craning his neck to try and see more of it.  It was dark out, and there was no one else in the room.  He couldn’t move much, he was strapped down quite tightly - restraints around wrists, torso, arms, and waist.  He was stark naked.

Straps were over his tentacles too, restricting them, but such a thing shouldn’t be able to hold him.  His tentacles were so malleable and could fit into just around anything.  He went to move them, to free one from the straps.  It should be easy.  But he felt a pang of horror as he _couldn’t_ move them.  They _were_ moving lazily, coiling around the gurney legs, each other, and the straps, as they would when he was not using them consciously.   But…he had no control over them hard as he tried.  In fact he could barely feel them, if at all.  Like he was paralyzed from the waist down.

 

“What did you do to me?!” Domi spat, the horror of the realization peaking his focus and making him lucid enough to form a sentence.

 

“Ahhh really coming around now, ja?”  The medic put out a bare hand and sighed happily as he pet over the half dried tentacles.  A delicate tip curled around his fingers, suckers curiously examining. They were acting on pure nerve and muscle impulse alone.  The German picked up a water bottle with his free hand and spritzed over the limbs, which jerked at the sensation, some trying to coil closer to the direction it came from.  Domi could feel the movement and even some of the wetness, but it was very distant.

 

Domi shuddered.  This wasn’t permanent was it?  He could still control his human half alright.  He snarled, tugging at the restraints, a feeling of vulnerability washing over him and pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“Calm down Mein Krake,” the Medic crooned, coming in threateningly close.  There was no fear in his eyes.  In fact he seemed completely unfazed by Dominique, “It is only temporary.  I’d never vhant to permanently damage mein own handiwork.”

What was with this man?  He was creeping Domi out with increasing intensity.  Domi looked closely at him as if that would somehow make any of this make sense.  His face was not familiar...but Dominique was starting to feel a clawing sensation of déjà vu, perhaps it was his voice.

“Oh I’ll admit, it vas something, to see your face again.  I vhorked so hard to get back here, disappeared off zie face of zie map to escape BLU.  Identity change, false records, a little facial surgery.  I didn’t even know if you vhere still alive.  I had no idea how I could even find you if you vhere, then zie incident last week...I _knew_.

“And ZHEN you fall right into my lap, I didn’t even have to search for you!  Such good luck,”  the medic chuckled deeply, whispering most of the words uncomfortably close like he was worried others might hear.

Domi wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this crazy medic as possible, and he went as far as the restraints allowed him.  “What are you saying?” Domi gulped, his words awkward with the water tube where it was down his nose and throat.

“Of course you don’t remember me!  You never got to see my face.  They wheeled you off quite quickly, upon hearing you vheren’t just an ‘accident’.  Pity BLU couldn’t see the genius and application of my vhork.”

Dominique’s eyes widened and his jaw hung slack. 

  
  
_No, it couldn’t be._

 

“OH don’t give me zhat look.  That you survived and for zhis long only proves my genius even more.”  He grinned widely petting a hand over the tentaspy’s chest and down to his fluttering gills.

“You... _you_ were ze one...who did this?”  Domi was too shocked to even be angry at that moment.  He shuddered at the touch, still trying in vain to shy away.

 

The man nodded, lifting his fingers to gesture with, “Mmm humm, ja!  I’ll admit you have some flaws, but nothing too major.  I’d say you turned out quite vhell considering you’re a prototype.  Self sufficient are you?  Can eat raw meat with no repercussions?  See in zie dark, smell better then a dog, subdue an enemy with one bite?” He was describing and asking at the same time.

“O...oui?” Domi answered weakly, indeed all those things were true.  He didn’t even quite know how to react, he felt like he was dreaming.  He couldn’t even grasp the situation, and the German was very domineering, surreally so casual in the twisted things he was saying.  “ How?  Why...?”

“Don’t vhorry your head at zhis moment Mein Krake,” he cut Domi off, “It’s late and I do have to work tomorrow.” The medic waved a hand, talking nonchalantly like none of this was a big deal, “I told RED’s senior medic I studied invertebrate biology in school, which made him feel I was qualified enough to handle and look over you.  I’ll be even more free to study you once he is gone...as he is due to be transferred out with the Heavy to another base on zie next supply train.”  The man seemed to like to hear his own voice, that or he was so giddy with his success he could barely stop himself.     

 

As he talked he rigged up the infirmary hose to an IV stand with some duct tape, locking the handle so it sprayed out water in a slow, fine spray that was almost a mist.  He angled it so it was right over the tentaspy.  The water dripped down over his exposed body, trickling off the gurney and eventually into the infirmary’s floor drain that was more used to seeing blood washed down it.

Dominique’s tentacles gained some more activity as they were rejuvenated.  A few curled out  in the direction IV stand.  But it was just out of reach considering how he was strapped down.

Satisfied, the medic nodded, “Zhat should do for zie night. I’m already vhorking out better accommodations with zie engineers.  So crafty zhey are!” He chuckled, “Oh, and do try to get some sleep, you have a busy day tomorrow.”

He turned to leave with no more pleasantries.

The lights went out, and Domi heard the infirmary door click shut.

He lay there staring at the ceiling for a long time in the darkness, everything sinking in.   
  
His mind raced, but no coherent thoughts came to the forefront.  His only company was the sounds around him in the otherwise deathly silent and empty room.  The _humm_ of the respirator machine rigged up with water, his raspy breathing, the spray of the infirmary hose, and the sound of dripping water into the floor drain.  Then there was the soft movement of wet tentacles as they tried to settle into a comfortable position...usually so comforting, but it only made the former BLU spy’s stomach sink at that moment.

 

God the silence was unbearable.

 

...

 

“Jesus, was that from the infirmary?” Roscoe lifted his welding visor.

 

The oldest of the three busy engineers looked up from the blueprints he was editing. “Sounds like that creature they hauled in makin’ a fuss...they should’a just killed the thing and sent it back to BLU in the arms of Respawn.  Who knows if they’ll come after him,”  William grumbled.

Lance swallowed, glancing up only briefly from where he was cutting a large sheet of plexiglass. If only his team mates knew what had transpired between him and ‘that creature’.  Mercifully, Spy kept his mouth shut, and no one else knew any of the details around the BLU’s infiltration beyond that he’d been impersonating their Spy, attacked him out on the field, and that Lance had shot him.

Even in all his anger towards that BLU...that cry echoing from the infirmary made Lance's heart sink with trepidation.  It was such a sorrowful noise, but bloodcurdling because of its half human, half animal nature.  This WAS a war, and while Lance liked building tools for combat, he wasn’t used to the idea of a _prisoner of war_ being kept right down the hall, strapped down like a science experiment.  That just made him squirm.

 

“The Medic and Doc already went to bed...” Roscoe still seemed spooked.

“Like I said, fussin’ like a dog in a crate,” William scribbled on the blueprints for a jury-rigged holding tank, not looking up.

“WE ought to be in bed,” Roscoe shot William a look from under his Stetson.

“Jes a little more, then we can git this done by tomorrow night after work,”  the oldest replied, “I’ll feel a lot safer when that thing is properly caged.”

“Agreed,” Lance finally spoke.

“I think you are most spooked by that thing in there,” Roscoe told Lance, “You’ve been so quiet ever since you shot it and saved Spah.”

“Yea Lance, you were th’ one who pretty much discovered it,” William noted.  “Saved all our bacon.”

 

Lance couldn’t help but smile at the admiration from his senior engineer, “I guess I am a little spooked, but nothin’ we can’t handle.  Thanks you two,” He felt safe around them, and he agreed with William when he said he’d feel safer with that BLU properly caged.

Still, the looks that thing gave to him, what he’d said.  They were haunting Lance.  But it couldn’t be; those spies were really good at faking you.  It was just trying to make him feel bad, like a hurt wildcat, and then when you get close it’ll swipe at you for your efforts.

The industrious trio of engineers worked for a bit longer, getting as much done as possible before bed.

 

Dominique didn’t know if it was the drugs or the sheer mental exhaustion, but he finally passed out into a merciful but restless sleep. 

 

He was awoken the next morning by a distant shuffling of medics, strapping on their gear for the day’s battle.  He could hear talking, echoing like vertigo inducing waves.  He was vaguely aware of a medic checking him over to make sure he was stable.  It was _him_...

Domi wanted to cry out, to scream in anger at the man responsible for derailing his life, but Domi didn’t have time to wake up enough to gather the energy to do so.  There was a sharp needle prick, and all was darkness again.

When he was next aware, Domi felt a pressure being let off his head.

“I put you on an IV drip to keep you out, no need to have you thrashing about in here all day while ve fought off ze BLU’s,”  a German voice stated as the words came into focus.

Although Domi’s mind was weak and disoriented, his instincts were not.  They felt restraints being let off, so they struck out with strong immediacy. 

 

ESCAPE.

 

The tentaspy shot up off the table with a flashing of teeth and erect frills, making him look especially menacing as he snarled.  He didn’t get far though; a strap caught his chest at a certain point - which resulted in a sound similar to a dog’s choke chain being tugged.

Domi was tightly restrained with leather straps at his wrists and a belt wrapped around his torso like a leash.  He could only make it into a sitting up position.  His hands were tight to the table at his sides, allowing little range of movement, or chance to fight back.  While his upper half was tense, his tentacles were completely disconnected from his actions, calmly lazing about as if nothing had changed.

He thrashed a little longer, testing the strength of the binding, eyes wild and teeth bared.  The Medic stood at a safe distance, watching with interest.  Domi finally settled into a hunched over posture, arm and back frills gradually sinking.  A low growl rumbled from him like an idling car engine.  Lucidness ebbed into his eyes, the feral look vanishing. But the anger did not, and that gaze was fixed right on the medic standing there.

He then noticed the other doctor there too, watching with horrified fascination.  It was not Domi’s intention to look menacing towards HIM, but it wasn’t hard in his current state, with curls of damp hair falling over his forehead as he hoarsely breathed around the respirator tube.

 

“Mein Gott,” Doc echoed, staring, “Sure you aren’t taking pointers from zie Snipah for animals?  You seem to be good around him.”

“You flatter me Herr,” The Medic told his superior officer, _‘Mmm it vas quite impressive to come out of sedation so quickly, and in his current state.’_ he thought to himself.

“Vhell at least I’ll be leaving zhis place in good hands.  I’m overdue for a transfer, as you know.  And so is Boleslav,” the other replied.

No doubt that the Medic had not told the current doctor his past.  Domi could tell it all right then - a former BLU now working at RED.  Treason, betrayer, possible double agent...

But he was only a monster, and an active BLU to their knowledge, why would they believe anything he said?  Domi sighed in frustration as he just sat there, listening to the others continue to chatter like he wasn’t in the room.

“Leave me alone vith him for zie moment, would you?  And save me some dinner, ja?” the Medic said, smiling at his comrade.

The Doc left, and all that crossed Domi’s mind was ‘ _My God, don’t leave me alone with him.’_ That grin the Medic gave his comrade was about as reassuring as a crocodile.  It felt like his sinking heart plunked right into his stomach, which growled quite unhappily in the silence.

“You MUST be hungry,” the medic had heard it.  He reached up and shut off the water spray from the hose as he talked, “Based on how I engineered you, your body must burn up a lot of fuel with all those muscular tentacles - even though you’ve been at rest since your capture.” 

 

A myriad of questions ran through Domi’s mind as the insufferable medic prattled on like a science text book, regarding Domi with no more grace of humanity then a child would a fish in a bowl.  _How could you have done this to me?  How did you do this?  What will you do with me now?  Can you change me back?  What will you do with me?_

He finally settled on something to say as the medic busied about in the infirmary cabinets, “My name is Dominique.”

 

“Hummm?” The medic barely glanced up from his supply rummaging.

 

“I said my _name_ is Dominique.”

 

“Ja, I knew zhat actually; I had it from your file. I knew all zie team’s names.  I used to look down upon you all like a bird on a wire through zie closed circuit cameras.”

“Then USE eet,”  Domi gave him a stern look.

“You don’t like zie nickname I gave you?” The medic smirked, fitting a thick mesh over a cup with a rubber band as he walked back over.

Domi didn’t need to reply, his face said it all.

“I now go by Dr. Eppelheim,” He said smugly, “Pity it seems zie tech crews like mine are gone now.  Zie base seems so automated...Respawn stabilized for zie most part.  Vhell all the better for me, no worry of being discovered, ja?”

The medic wasn’t caring for pleasantries, he had work to do.  He’d waited 6 years for this, to finally study the results of his experiment.  “Now I’d like a sample of your venom. Unless you give it to me, zhere vill be no food for you today.”

Domi gave a low growl.  But it was weak. It was obvious the state he was in, despite his best efforts to look strong.  Even his tentacles moving on their own were sluggish, many barely moving at all, just curled into spirals or suckered stationary around the gurney legs like ribbons on a may pole.

“Just image it’s zie RED Spy, you attacked him, ja?  Vhat set you off with him anyway?”  It was more of a statement then a question.  The medic hovered the cup closer, cautious but knowing he had the upper hand, “Bite through zie mesh. Zie cup will catch it all."

Dominique recalled seeing a photo like this once; this was how they milked venom from snakes.  The prospect of food was very welcoming. But giving into anything this man asked of him made his stomach churn in a different fashion.  Should he refuse and hold out longer?  Keep his dignity?  To what end?

His stomach groaned again and he sighed.  Best to keep up his strength and just accept getting food at the cost of dignity.  Then if he got loose, he could escape or fight back.

The tentaspy hissed and curled his lips back, garnering up venom from his glands, which caused a feeling of pressure running up the sides of his neck.  He tried to think of someone as he struck down onto the offered cup, but it wasn’t the RED Spy.  Translucent liquid lined the bottom of the cup, running from the channels down the backsides of his fangs where they acted like hypodermic needles.  It was far more then you’d expect from the likes of a snake.

He jerked back when the deed was done.  A thick drool reflexively started, only this time there was no prey to eat, so he found himself licking his lips and teeth.

Eppelheim stared with morbid fascination, grinning widely when he had the precious sample. “I bet this will match vhat we got off zie Spy that one night too, I could tell by zie bite... It vas from a human sized mouth,” he began splitting it up into separate sample tubes for further examination of its chemical make up.

Domi slumped back down to the table, which was about as uncomfortable as something could be.  He tried to remain stoic.  Things could be so much worse, and that anticipation of what was to come was the most horrible.   
  
He didn’t give the Medic the pleasure of any more responses as his tentacles were poked over, testing reflexes, measuring sucker strength, size, and colorations.  He stopped watching the scene, staring to the wall instead, tuning everything out.  His eyes stung as they started to feel dry as the hour ticked past. 

 

He was suddenly jerked to attention by a sharp pain that dully ached into his being.  He looked down, his tentacles were twitching with displeasure.  One of them had been severed - a good 20 inches cut clean off the end.  Thankfully the epidural-like IV feed cut off almost as many signals getting to his brain as it did them reaching down.  Seeing it though, sent phantom pains of what he knew he should be feeling.

“These should grow back. Let’s see how many days zhis one takes, mmmm?” The medic took the still writhing tentacle piece and put it into the refrigerator.

“Va te faire foutre!” Domi cursed at him, growling welling up in his throat.

“Such language,” The medic sarcastically pouted as he made a specimen jar label.

“I thought you said you were going to feed me?!” Domi snapped back, not realizing until after he’d said it how animalistic that sounded.  He WAS hungry. So much so it was knotting at his insides.  That combined with his current state wasn’t doing much to keep him level headed.

 

“Now zhat you mention it, I never DID eat dinner,” The medic noted.

And Eppleheim left...leaving Domi alone with his thoughts.

 

How he missed feeling whole - was Domi’s first thought.  How long would this disconnected state last?  As much as he used to wish to be rid of the things, the tentacles _were_ a part of him, and he’d come to be rather attached to them same as anyone is to their body parts, especially in the realization there was no going back.  He relied on them, and they’d been his only ‘company’ through the years.  Because they acted half of their own accord when not given orders, it was like he had someone else there with him; comforting, inquisitive, tender.

Never had he missed the cool, weightless embrace of the canals more then he did right then, especially as his tentacles dried with the water spray turned off the past hour.  He just wanted to fill his lungs with fresh water, feel it coursing through him, sleep in his den in that padded concrete pipe in a coiled bed of tentacles.  It was a sad, simple existence, but it was his life now.  It was something he’d learned to take pleasure in, to accept as his new reality.  It helped him forget all he’d lost.

He glanced down at the severed tentacle and how tacky the slime on them was becoming.  The medic must have wanted the hose off so he could work on the limbs without them being too slippery.  At least his limbs drying out wouldn’t kill him directly, though he’d never been past a certain point of dryness.   Had they been in his control he couldn’t walk on them in this state, nor move them with any strength.

His mind kept wandering.  And what else was at the forefront of his mind but the situation that put him in this mess.  Stupid…stupid stupid.  

Domi cursed himself for getting involved with the teams again, but at the same time he knew if he was to do it all again he’d make the same choices, maybe up until the point he started engaging the Engineer so much.  He coughed around the respirator tube and flopped his head to the side.  No matter how his mind churned it, there was no way interacting so closely could ever lead to anything but death or capture.   
  
Stupid.  Cocky AND stupid.     
  
The look on Lance’s face when they had locked eyes. His bitter words.  Lance knew he was the one behind the mask of the RED Spy.  It was all understandable... But it still hurt.  Even if Lance would give him audience to explain things, would he believe him that he was not working for BLU?  Forgive him in the slightest for using the RED Spy’s face?  Most importantly, could he see past, or accept, his physical condition?  Was he so disturbing that he’d never want to talk to him again?  Was he seen as nothing more then an animal?

 

Suddenly the creak of metal signaled the infirmary doors being opened.

“Easy Mein Krake,” The German cooed, walking over.

Dominique weakly sat up into a hunched posture.  _‘I dare you to say that with me UNTIED,’_ he thought snidely, with an audible growl.

Domi eyed what the medic had in his hands, a plate of what looked like leftovers from dinner.  Cut up bits of chicken covered in BBQ sauce, peas and beans.  Typical fare for the mercenaries, filling but cheap food.  It was put within reach.  Did he expect him to eat it off the plate like a dog?  He swallowed as he started to salivate, he needed that food.  It had been almost 48 hours since he last ate.

“Come now, zhis is for you being good, remember?” Eppelheim grinned.

The hesitation didn’t last long.  Domi tried, as dignified as he could, to lick and bite the meal off the plate.  But what was a noble effort soon turned into a ravenous attempt to eat as much as he could as fast as he could.  The plate was quickly cleared, and the tentaspy was licking meat and bean juice from his lips in a calmed daze.

“Such a good boy,” The medic put it aside.

“I’m not your DOG,” Dominique struck back, the daze disappearing.

The Medic didn’t seem insulted or remotely threatened, and the fact all his retorts didn’t faze the doctor just made Domi even more angry.

“You could be a little more grateful, you should see vhat zie engineers are working on, just for you,” he moved his hand down to the safety of Domi’s paralyzed tentacles, which were tacky with slime.   
  
_‘Oh god don’t TOUCH me,’_ Domi thought with a wince as Eppelheim curled his finger into some weak suckers.  He wanted so badly to snap the man’s wrist in half.

To Dominique’s relief the hose was turned back on, and the medic was sure to soak every inch of him initially.  It felt so good he could cry.  Oh god how he missed the canals more than ever.  He’d never been out of water this long.   
  
He was told a less then comforting ‘goodnight’ with a promise of ‘more work to be done tomorrow.’ 

 

Sleep, he wanted a good nights’ sleep so badly.  But all he could do was run visions of vivisections through his head and stare at the ceiling for the longest time.

 

...

 

As the RED team gathered for the day’s fighting, many were chatting about the captive in the infirmary.  Eppelheim listened out of the corner of his ear.  Doc was keeping out of it; as much as he was also fascinated by the strange creature, he’d much rather NOT have a BLU in the base at all.  And he picked his cohort’s brain about him as they went along.  Perhaps he could sit in when the other medic did a more thorough examination...as long as he was humane about it.

Through it all the RED Spy seemed strangely quiet.  He got his coffee and breakfast, turning to leave and eat elsewhere.

“Herr Spy,” the Frenchman was stopped by a thick vinyl gloved hand on his shoulder.

“Docteur?” The Spy glanced at Eppelheim. _‘Oh here it comes...’_ he thought, knowing exactly what the topic would be.

“They say it vas you who lured zie BLU creature in, ja?  How exactly did you do it?”

“Since when did a spy reveal his secrets?” He said cryptically, like he didn’t have much desire to talk to the man.  He’d heard some of the noises coming from the infirmary, and he’d seen how the doctor had the BLU strapped down.  As much animosity as he had towards him for stealing his face, those things were haunting, and it made him fear the newer medic.

“Did you have some reason to be mad at him?  Considering you stole some of my tranquilizer sedatives to take him down...”

“OH heh,” He laughed innocently, “Sorry about that docteur.  And oui, do you recall when I came into the infirmary with that bite?  Also when I came in weeth all ze scratches and broken ribs?”

The medic smirked. “I did correlate those two in my mind...so it vas him?”

“Oui.  And yes, I theenk that is plenty motive enough.” The Spy wanted to appease the medic with as little information as possible.  He didn’t want to betray his promise to the engineer, so that meant keeping all else about his interactions with the tentacled spy secret.

“I’d suppose so...” Though the medic still wondered why his creature would attack the Spy. If he’d been hiding all these years, he must have not revealed himself much, if ever.  To have so brashly bitten and gone after the Spy on two separate occasions, he must have had a good reason to. “Are you healing alright?  No further side effects?”

“All seems well, merci.  You two are very skilled,” The Spy sipped his coffee, “Now if you’d excuse me Docteur, I would like to eat my breakfast.” He hurried off.

 _‘He’s hiding something...’_ the medic thought, though he wasn’t sure what.  He’d keep an ear out.

 

...

 

“Why did you ‘ave to go and drag the whole team over?” The RED Spy huffed as he sat on a wooden crate up in the Sniper’s nest, which was on the top floor of the RED’s factory building. “Now ze Medic has that theeng tied up in ze infirmary and is grilling me for details I do not want to give.  Eet’s annoying.”

“You didn’t know how well that tranquilizer would work!  He could’ve turned on you any minute, dragged you roight off into the water, maybe to BLU.  Sure seemed like he was tryin’ to take you when I saw him attakin’ you before that.  A wounded animal is the most dangerous kind, you know,”  the Australian struck back.  His own breakfast was in his lap.

It had begun to be a common thing for them to eat breakfast together, away from the hubbub of the team.  Soon as the RED Spy knew where his little hideaway was he started sneaking up there for the quiet privacy, and eventually, the company.  One would wonder why the two would want to spend any time together from how they acted around one another - chiding, threatening, and bickering.  Well, they do say opposites attract.

“I was only being cautious,” The sniper added in a mumble, pulling his hat down.

“You’d miss me too much eef BLU caught me, is that eet?” The Spy pet a pointed shoe toe up under the Australian’s loose pants cuff, an impish smirk on his lips.

“Bloody spook.” Sniper grabbed his ankle with a strong hand, plate put to the side.  It seemed like he just meant to throw him off, but he teased right back, pushing the Spy’s pant leg up and giving his sock garters a good snap.

The Spy shook loose, flinching. “Well at least for ze first time in weeks I had a full night’s sleep.  That is ze one advantage to knowing ze BLU’s science experiment is strapped down.”

“You ought to have slept up here mate, I’d have watched over you,” the Sniper said in a low drawl.

“Derik, _pleaseee_.  Much as I respect your, ummm, _stories_ of conquests with big game animals and don’t doubt that ability, your bed is a little, well...” He glanced at the sheet-less mattress on the floor of the loft room, a thin dingy blanket strewn across it.

“Wot?  Fine enough for shaggin’ but not for sleepin’ over, that it?”

“I’ll bring you a SHEET at least, ‘ow about that, non?”  He couldn’t help but snort in a laugh.

“Shut ya gob, Raimund.  Bloody snoot, that wot you are.  Picky ass poofer.”

His grumbling was stopped short as the Spy came and straddled his lap, putting a gloved hand to his chin. “I’ll bring a fresh sheet set _tonight_ , oui?”

 

...

...

 

“Not done yet?” Eppelheim leaned against the doorframe of the workshop, looking rather sharp in his vest and dress shirt.  He cleaned up well after the daily battles and surgeries.  He didn’t look impatient at least—that would have annoyed the engineers.  They were working like busy bees for the third afternoon on the tank-like structure designed to hold their special BLU prisoner.

“Murphy’s Law,” William gestured with a rolled up blueprint, “We only got so much time and energy after the day’s battle.”

“Ahh right, right," the medic ventured closer, looking the build over. “Dankeschön, by zie way, this is very much appreciated.”

“It’s taking so long because William is implementin’ some new technology he was working on,” Lance flicked up his welding mask to talk, “It’s really quite amazing.” He gave a nod to his team mate.

William looked pleased, like he knew how genius it was, but he also stayed humble at the same time. “I’ve been developin’ an energy field of sorts using magnets and alternating current, something to protect builds while they construct or for manual adjustments on the fly.  It drains a lot of energy so you can’t get too much outta it on the field at a time, but for the purpose on this tank it could be maintained easily with a constant, low energy flow from a wall plug in.”

He tapped the rolled up blueprints on a series of covered transformers on the side of the tank. “It will prevent ‘im from poking any of those limbs of his through the wire mesh on top or breakin’ this plexiglass.  ‘Cause strong as it is, I don’t trust it to hold that devil.”

“Wunderbar!” The medic exclaimed, severely impressed.  They could have used someone like William back when Respawn was new. “This is really too vonderful.”

“We like a challenge,” Lance smirked, seeing the others nod in agreement.  He tried to get caught up in the project to ease his depression and busy his thoughts...

“We live fer this kind of stuff,” Roscoe agreed, “Folk like us.”

“Keep at it. You will be done by tomorrow then?”

“Should be done tonight I reckon,” William agreed, “But you might not be able to move him in ‘till morning— depends on your schedule.”

“Vielen Dank!” The Medic thanked them, “Ja, just tell me soon as you are ready,” and then left them to their work so he could get to HIS work.

 

They continued working like the industrious engineers they were.  Lance was distracted.  He had heard noises from the infirmary all this time but never gone in there.  He just kept imagining that face, that sad longing face the creature gave him.  If it really WAS him that whole time impersonating their spy, he was no different intelligence wise than anyone else.  He was still, _a person_.  He looked so sorry, why would he look like that if he was lying just to get to him for intel?  He had so many questions, and no answers.  His heart ached.

 _Just focus on your project,_ he told himself _.  At least you'll feel better doing something useful..._

 

…

 

Dominique was brought out of sedation, the infirmary cleared for the evening, all bullets and shrapnel removed, and the tables cleaned.  He was met with a plate of food, kept out of reach.

“I have more questions for you,” the eager medic smiled as he let the man’s restraints off just enough like the other day.

Domi groaned dryly, sitting up in a haze.  He gave a croak of a response, glancing at the food, and leaned forward, limply hanging by his restraints.  He fell back to the table, looking disinterested, pale, and weak.  His breathing was dryer than ever. His mind felt numb like pretty much the rest of him.  

“Hummm,” Eppelheim fussed, hearing this. “Even with zie respirator giving you a steady trickle of fresh water you still seem dry in your throat.  I can’t up zie flow and still have you able to speak, but - ” He took the hose from its mount, turning off the valve. He unscrewed the nozzle, and then turned it back on, this time it was like a plain garden hose with a thick flow of water.  He put it right over the half conscious tentaspy’s face and the water gushed past his parted lips.

Domi jerked against his restraints at the feeling, opening his mouth wide to it.  A glorious coolness filled him, fresh oxygen rushing to his system as water gushed past his gills.  His eyes rolled back in relief as he reveled in the feeling.  When the water was turned off, he gasped far more smoothly as the water drained from his lungs, switching over to air breathing again.  He moaned softly after every deep breath, reeling.

“That’s definitely something I need to fix,” The medic put the spray nozzle back on, “Getting zie lungs to vhork efficiently and still be submergible,” he mumbled as he took the plate of food again, “Zhat feel better?”

Domi nodded, sitting up and swaying a bit.

The medic grilled him with questions, like if he could change his tentacle skin color at all (‘a little at times, but not like an octopus, no.’), how efficient his gills felt (‘quite good’), how well he could see underwater (‘perfectly fine’), how sensitive his tentacles were to taste feedback (‘focusing on it, indeed receptive almost as much as a tongue’).

Domi answered everything—not enthusiastically, but that food was a good lure. He was feeling in a better mood after that jolt of fresh water.  God that felt wonderful.  Would he get to be in water again soon?  He wanted it back more then anything...it was this primal need welling up from inside him, overtaking most of his thought.  Just being kept moist wasn’t enough anymore.

He was finally given the meal; some sense came back to his mind instead of just running on autopilot as the calories hit his bloodstream.

“Everything going all right?” A voice came from the door, accompanied by a small knock.

“Doctor! Ahh yes, everything is fine,” Eppelheim grinned.  However, inside he was not smiling.  He wanted _privacy_ so he could work unmediated...

Dominique listened with a heavy heart as the two medics talked.  Eppelheim explained to Doc about how he wanted to do a vivisection while he still had him strapped down and half sedated. The other agreed, but said he wanted to stay and observe, also to make sure proper precautions were used; he said he’d been worried with some things he’d heard coming from the infirmary.

 

Wait, _vivisection_?

 

“Don’t I get a say in this!?” Domi blurted out, voice shaky.  God he hated how pathetic he sounded.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” The medic snapped back, though of course in reality he’d never want him killed.  
  
“Surely, besides study are we not to interrogate the enemy for information?  Being a Spy he must know a lot!”  Eppelheim reasoned to his comrade.

“If you overload him, then he von’t be useful for anything when he’s catatonic.  I trust your expertise, but your overzealous eagerness vhorries me,” the Doc waved a finger. “And enemy or not, I’ll have no outright torture going on in MY infirmary by way of medical carelessness.”

Much as Eppelheim didn’t like it, it WAS still HIS infirmary; the older doctor was his senior in rank.

“And don’t you get any ideas.” The doctor glanced at Dominique, who was giving him the most pleading face possible while keeping his dignity. “You are a BLU.  I’m not saying this because I feel sorry for you.  You are not some innocent caged animal; I’ve seen vhat you did to our Spy.  My oath is to _this_ team, and you are a threat to their health and safety.  I intend to learn vhat we can from you to help protect that.”

Eppelheim couldn’t contest THAT, so he agreed.  Dominique hung his head; in his position he couldn’t make the Doc believe otherwise.  He was a ‘BLU’, shown to have indeed hurt the RED Spy.  He was ‘the enemy’. 

 

...

 

Preparations were made.  Dominique’s heart beat rapidly as he glanced around from his restrained position on the table.  The doctor had said he wanted this to be ‘humane’, thank god.  Who knew what would have become of him had he been alone with the _other medic._

Would he be awake?  Put under?  Would he...see what they were doing to him?

The doctor brought over a large rig attached to the ceiling.  The medigun he usually used during the day was attached to it.  He positioned it carefully, adjusting some dials on the side.  Eppelheim watched vigilantly; he was still a little new to the mediguns—using them that is.  He saw plenty of them on the cameras while working behind the scenes.

The device was switched on, the red vapor beam reaching out toward the strapped down tentaspy. “I had to calibrate it to be able to latch onto someone not in zie RED’s Respawn system,” The medic told his comrade, “How it’s set is more like a ‘mist’ then a beam anyway.”  He cleared the air bubbles from a prepared syringe and jabbed it under Domi’s chest skin subcutaneously.  The captive winced and twitched, but as the thick flush of the medication spread, it combined with the medigun’s warm glow, creating a feedback reaction in his cells.

Dominique could still feel, but nothing really ‘hurt.’    

“Ah ah, vhait,” The medic stopped his superior from placing a mask with nitrous over the captive’s face, intending to knock him out, “I need him awake for this part, before we crack him open.”

Dominique violently wrenched at the restraints hearing that, he knew it was a futile reaction, but it was like an irrepressible reflex to get _away_.  His tentacles, if only...he squeezed his eyes shut trying with all his might to make them respond.  It was no use...

“Shhhh, shhh, this shouldn’t hurt vhith how we’ve set you up,” Eppelheim crooned, reaching a clean, bare hand down and picking up the top gill slit closest to him.  Domi could just barely see what he was doing, but he could FEEL it...

His mouth gaped with unpleasant gurgles as his gill slits were painfully stretched wide.  It...yes it didn’t _hurt_...he was right about that.  But it was an unpleasant alien feeling that disturbed him to his core.  The stretching intensified as the medic wedged his fingers into the top slit, further, further, until his knuckles hit the flap of the gill slit under it.  A trickle of blood dripped down from the damp fimbriae, damaged by the intrusion.

“Nnnggg!”  Domi clenched his teeth, fists doing the same.

 

“Vhen we open him up we should be able to see a connection right to his lungs, I can feel zie valve here; it feels almost like a large, tricuspid heart valve.  Here,” The medic pointed to his comrade, having him douse the hose over his face again like before.  With his hand blocking the valve, all the water flowed out of the opposite side gill slits.

“Tell me, vhat does that _feel_ like?” The medic asked with curiosity.

“I...I would assume eet would ‘urt a lot more w-without that medigun running...” Domi sputtered when the water was removed.

“I wonder how his lungs look to compensate for that,” The doctor added, not worried that it could actually _be painful_ with his medigun rigged up as it was, “Come let’s get started,”

The mask returned, a hand holding it over him was all Dominique could see as everything went into a fuzzy blur.

 

...

 

In his delirium Dominique thanked the Doc for his mercy, if it wasn’t for him, who knows if Eppelheim would have used any anesthesia at all. ‘ _Thank you thank you,’_ he mouthed, not even aware he was trying to speak out loud.

There was the whine of an electric sternum saw.  He could vaguely feel a pressure in his chest, a movement and tickling like the caress of fingertips. He heard pleased laughter, voices, discussing and taking photographs.  That warmth from the medigun felt so good...keeping a pulse in his veins and blood regenerating in his body, even as it flowed off the table when his heart was removed.  Room had to be made to see elsewhere...

When the mask was removed, it could have been minutes or hours, Dominique lost all sense of time.  He blinked as the nitrous went out of his system as fresh air entered his damp lungs.  “You’re a successful creature indeed,” Eppelheim pet his head briefly, meanwhile the other doctor was tending to his medigun.

Dominique was able to catch a glimpse of his exposed organs before the medigun was ramped up to full power.  It was like some out of body nightmare, because it didn’t hurt, but he knew it _should_.  He screeched in horror, even as his chest closed up and his ribs snapped back together.

The doctors left to let their patient rest, and to clean up and get dinner, the doctor scolding the other medic for bringing him out of sedation a little too soon. 

Dominique breathed deeply, chest heaving.  That chest had been open just minutes before.  Miracle of mediguns or not, that was something he never wanted to see.  ‘ _Mon dieu mon dieu mon dieu...’_ he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to picture everything they had been doing, trying not to piece it together in his mind.  He struggled again, tiring quickly, eyes shut with exhaustion and vertigo.

He tried to imagine something pleasant.  Floating on his back in the river on a clear night, watching the stars.  You could see so many out there in the desert, even with light from the bases.  The night was cool and damp.  His tentacles splayed out in the water, some anchoring him to the riverbank, others down to the bottom where unwitting young fry pecked at his skin like a massaging tickle.  Too small to be eaten anyway...  

 

Dominique heard the infirmary door open again.  That sound made him flinch _, ‘He’s coming back...no no noo...please...no more!’_ His mind instantly raced in anticipation.

But there was no German tone - in fact no talking at all...but there was a familiar, favorable smell that included burnt steel.  Domi turned his head to confirm the presence he sensed there.

 

There was Lance, silent and just a foot away at the side of the exam gurney. 

 

There was tension in the air you could almost taste.  The engineer and the spy locked eyes as they glanced about each other.

Dominique’s urge to speak grew more and more as the seconds stretched into minutes.  _‘He’s HERE...say something!’_ he thought.  But in his current condition, he felt about ready to pass out with the added stress.  It was a horrible dual feeling.  His heart leapt to see the engineer there of his own accord, it was a ray of hope he needed so desperately, but at the same time he wished he wasn’t there— _not now_.  He was a frazzled, poorly slept, inadequately fed _monster_ strapped to a table with such indignity.  How could he make any kind of redeeming proclamation in such a state?

Lance looked like he wanted to speak, but finally he motioned to leave, having said nothing.

 

“Cheri, wait!” Domi cried out quickly, desperately.

 

The engineer stopped and turned, coming back to the side of the gurney. “Now...now why would you say that?  Think you can really keep that charade up?” He sounded accusing, but shaky, like he didn’t _want_ to be mad.

Domi did his best to speak clearly and calmly, but it wasn’t easy with his throat closing up with emotion on top of the respirator tube wedged back there.  “S'il vous plait, l-let me explain.  Firstly...eet may be ‘ard to believe, but I’m not employed by BLU.  At least not anymore.  I-I ‘ave no bad intentions for your team, I’m not ‘ere on a mission.”

Lance’s face shifted, and he paused to swallow before answering, “But yer uniform - ”

“I was weeth BLU, oui - over six years ago.  Back then respawn was a new technology, I think they were experimenting weeth eet.  One day...I woke up from respawn like _this_.”  His eyes were attempted calm, but they were bloodshot, tired, and pleading.  “They tried to dispose of me.  But I escaped, and ‘ave survived ‘ere at ze base ever since, keeping under ze radar.  They think I am dead.”

The engineer listened...the story sounded _plausible_.  He _wanted_ to believe it.  That BLU was experimenting with respawn could be true.  He knew he was scanned and had blood samples taken upon coming there to RED.  They of course never told him the details of how respawn worked, but it sure had something to do with bio-patterns, DNA, the like.  Maybe they toyed with it, doing things against nature, messing with the patterns.

“So everythin’ you said...you pretendin’ to be our spah?”

“He was the most convenient to impersonate.  Similar body type, someone I could act like myself and eet would not seem out of place. I was just using 'is face, ze person was me though. That’s why I ‘ad you fix my disguise kit and cloaking watch, you theenk I could really go up to you, anyone, like _this_?  And eef I was weeth BLU why would I put on a trick to ‘ave _you_ fix _my_ gear?”

“I - I don’t know.” Lance remained skeptical, but he listened to everything, and the Spy sounded sincere.  His tone and how he was looking at him.

“What happened right after you fixed ze disguise kit?” the tentaspy asked.

Lance thought...remembering around the same time Boleslav gave him that metal and he was able to make that new build with it.

“Your ‘eavy gave you some metal, didn’t he?” Domi said it before Lance could.

“Y...yea.” The engineer felt a chill of realization.

“That wasn’t Boleslav.”  Domi tried to smile. “All this began weeth me just wanting to DO something...I’ve been so idle and bored and alone for so long.  When I over’eard you talking about wanting to get your hands on some BLU metal I decided to take action.  Eet was just a leetle thing, but once I had a taste of being back in ze action I kept going.  And you...YOU were what made me want to.  Everything I _said_ , that I _did_ , was sincere...I promise.  And I even lost control and 'urt your RED Spy, I feel terrible for that.  I never intended that to 'appen.  I..I..."

 

“How kin I believe anything you say?”  Really how could he?  What proof did the Spy have? _‘Maybe he really is a BLU renegade, working alone.  Imagine for a minute everything he said is the truth.  His own team did this to him and then left him for dead.  And he did all this, just to get closer to you, because he is lonely.  He risked himself, just because he loves you...’_ Lance thought. _  
_

Dominique felt desperate, exhausted...how else could he prove himself?  He had nothing but his word.  He didn’t even have actions, as he was strapped helplessly to a table, half paralyzed, and every muscle aching.  His body trembled with frustration as he writhed against his restraints. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything.  I’m sorry I lied to you and deceived you...I feel terrible that you felt used...that I made you think even for a moment I was just some BLU using you for intel.  Je suis vraiment désolé... désolé...” Domi cursed himself for how pathetic he sounded, especially as tears squeezed from his eyes, but he felt like he had nothing left.  Nothing was right and everything had gone wrong.  It didn’t matter.

 

“I just wanted to get closer to you...I just wanted..." He was practically delirious as he rasped the words

 

Domi could just make out of the corner of his eye something coming near. He shied away out of confusion and reflex in anticipation of harm.  But then he watched silently as the engineer softly stroked the back of his fingers over his cheek.  Dominique melted into that touch, closing his eyes and shuddering out a breath with a look of disbelieving joy.  He wasn’t even sure if it was real or he was hallucinating.  But he needed it so badly.

 _‘His face’_ , Lance thought, expression cracking a bit as he too choked up. Such a reaction he received, surely this all could not be fake...

He’d made the decision to trust in what the Spy said, at least for now.  The engineer would remain cautious, but open.     

In that moment, he felt a wash of happiness seeing the other’s expression.  He really did have a nice smile, different from their Spy of course.  And while he’d come to fall in love with _that_ face, now having talked to this spy even just this briefly, he heard the ‘RED Spy’ in him, and he saw the man he’d come to fall for was this man. _This_ face... could come to grow on him.

“Petit,” Domi purred, nuzzling into the touch like he could fall asleep right there.  “Je t'aime tellement...” An actual purr welled up in his throat.

Lance recognized it; he’d heard that before in the ‘RED Spy’.  He figured it was just talented voice box work, but now seeing his true form, it was fitting how he could make such sounds.

Of course it raced past Lance’s mind, _‘what are you doing, LOOK at him.’_ But if the Spy’s dedicated, sincere feelings (not to mention dashing good looks...)  were desirable enough to Lance to make him feel so strongly, then his physical nature was something he could at least _begin_ to deal with, crazy as it was.  He couldn’t deny he’d very much liked the affections ever since day one when ‘the RED Spy’ started courting him.

The whole situation was already very atypical; the engineer decided he’d roll with things as they came.

 

“Don’t even know yer name,” He chuckled, “You spah’s never give that kind of thing out.”

“Dominique,” the tentaspy looked up at him, “My name is Dominique, mon chéri.”

 

“It...it’s a pleasure to meet you Dominique.” The engineer pet over his damp hair this time, “I think you already know my name.”

 

“Ze pleasure is all mine,” Domi whispered, his demeanor so calm now.  He leaned back into that gentle hand as it went to his face.

 

“The doc might be back any minute; we’re installing that tank he requested tonight.  I hope...that it’ll be better for ya.  I’ll admit, it looks mighty terrible what they been doing to you in here,” He swallowed, “Even if you were th’ enemy or not.”

 

The engineer finally removed his hand, he felt bad to leave the man in such a state, and he couldn’t deny it felt mighty nice getting to touch him. 

 

Domi went far as he could to follow the touch.  _‘Please don’t go,'_ he was thinking, but Lance was right, there was no way they could catch him looking sympathetic.  He watched the RED Engineer make his leave, giving him one last glance before he closed the infirmary door.

 

A chance, he was being given a chance...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said originally I wanted to finish this in 2016 but life stuff happened. I'll be working on it when I can, and maybe if I'm lucky I'll get finished between now and early next year. Thanks everyone for your comments, they make me want to get it finished! I want Lance and Domi to have their resolution. UuU


End file.
